Open Windows
by Salome Weil
Summary: Hermione makes a crucial mistake with Ron and the consequences won't be pretty, unless Draco can rise to the occasion. But with his own demons to face, will he make the right choice? AU, Spoilers HBP, M for language and sexual reference, later violence.
1. A Door Closes

**I do not own any part of the Harry Potter franchise and make no money off this fiction; all rights belong to J.K. Rowling, Scolastic and Warner Bros. **

**AN: This is not a new story. If you follow me over on Granger Enchanted as well, you'll know that this story was previously exclusive to it. It was inspired by Drivelicious' story, _And Two Must Love,_ and I borrow the major plot idea of protection for the children of Death Eaters from her, with her permission. Her story is quite good, you should check it out! Aside from that one plot point, everything else is pretty different. I am only reposting the story here because GE recently began enforcing their beta rule and until I acquire a beta there, I will be unable to update the story. So because I am impatient and annoyed, here it is. I hope you enjoy it! Again, props to Drivelicious- check her out!**

* * *

"Shit."

It was just one word and spoken so very, very softly, but Hermione knew what it meant. She rolled over on the cot and shut her eyes tightly. Perhaps he would think she was asleep; perhaps he would just get dressed and go away without saying _anything_ else.

Not bloody likely, though. This was _Ronald _she was thinking of.

There was some shifting from his side of the small mattress and she knew he was searching for his clothes. Having a hard time finding them, apparently, and no wonder- he was the most pea brained of the bunch.

"Er, Hermione, love?" came his timid voice, finally.

She ground her teeth and waited for the rest.

"I seem to have- ah, I mean, I can't find- well, would you mind helping me look for my pants…please?"

At that, she sat bolt upright. The measly bedclothes fell from her and she knew she was naked, but didn't care. She'd lost all modesty with this _oaf _only a few minutes before anyway; what did she care for her dignity any longer?

"Your pants? So that's it?" she practically shrieked at him. Not that she really cared whether he just left or not, but a girl had to have _some _pride. "Don't you have anything else to say?"

He avoided looking at her, his ears a bright red and his face quickly following suit. He blundered about for some words before coming up with the brilliant, "Er."

Hermione rolled her eyes and stood up as well. His face went an even brighter red and she sighed. "Never mind, Ronald. Clearly this meant absolutely nothing to you. Not that I expected it to," she added as an after thought.

"Hey!" he protested. "That's just not true, Hermione- you know I liked you for a really long time, it's just that with Lavender now, and all…well," he finished lamely, "you know."

Hermione huffed a bit more and stooped to gather her clothes and Ron's pants from under the increasingly miserable little cot. Ron tried not to watch her and failed in a rather desperate fashion.

"Well for Merlin's sake, stop staring at me, you oaf!" she hissed and threw on her robes as quickly as possible. "I don't want to be in this room any longer with you than you do, apparently. So get dressed and get the _hell _out, please."

"Hermione, don't be that way, please," he whined at her, even as he was putting on the rest of his clothes. "I really, really liked you-"

"Oh, just stop it!" she snarled before pausing in her hurried ministrations to take a deep breath. "Look, Ron," she finally managed to say in a reasonable tone of voice, "we tried something. It didn't work the way I thought it would. Let's leave it at that, alright? And no, of course I won't tell anyone. You don't have to worry about your precious _bimbo_ of a girlfriend finding out."

For a moment, Hermione thought Ron might actually sigh with relief- that or cry, she wasn't sure which- but then he face grew hard and he frowned at her. She raised an eyebrow at him. So, he wanted to play the angry game with her? He'd never win. She was champion at the angry game.

"You know, Hermione, you seemed awfully appreciative earlier when I consented to this ploy of yours."

"Ploy? Excuse me?" she stared at him. Perhaps he had more brains than she gave him credit for. Not that it had started out as a deliberate attempt to steal him away from Lavender, but she supposed he was _technically _right about her motives.

"You know exactly what I mean, Hermione," he replied, shaking his head knowingly. "Lavender told me you still liked me and would try something like this. I guess I never thought I would actually fall for it."

"You idiot! You arrogant, moronic boy!" she screeched, unable to turn on her filter at this point. "_I _never thought that you would fall for the cheap _whore_! How's that for expectations?"

Ron's face went pale and he stopped his gloating. "Hermione- you know, maybe if you had come to me sooner I wouldn't be with _her_ right now-"

Hermione was unable to contain herself any longer. She had reached the end of her rope with this git and knew- she could feel the ire boiling her marrow- that if he didn't leave soon, she would be going to Azkaban. _How- oh, how on _earth_- did I ever like that two faced twat of a man?_ she bemoaned.

Out loud she said, "Are you dressed, Ronald?"

He nodded at her and she gave him the most hideous smile he'd ever seen. "Good. Then get out."

"Hermione-"

"It wasn't a request, _Ron_. Get the hell _out._" He looked at her uncertainly and she summoned up her best glare before raising her wand at him. "_Now._"

He fled just as the hex flew from her wand. It hit the slamming door impotently and dispelled in a shower of sparks. She could hear his footsteps echoing back down the hallway as he ran away. When she finally couldn't hear him any longer, she sank to the cot again.

The sheets were mussed and there was a damp place in the center of the bed, a few spots of blood crowning it like a trophy. Hermione began to cry in spite of herself, hating Ron for it and wishing desperately that her heart didn't hurt so much just then. Not even because it was broken, which it was, but because she knew then just how much of an idiot she had been.

* * *

For the first month or two of their sixth year, Hermione had tried to keep things cordial between herself and Ron- at least when Lavender wasn't around- and she felt she'd done a pretty good job of it. It had grown increasingly difficult as the fall term had progressed, however, because Lavender had realized that Ron and Hermione were still spending a great deal of time together and she _clearly _disapproved. Even to the extent that she had insisted he change partners in classes like Potions and Dark Arts. It had driven Hermione crazy at first, until Ginny had begun to insinuate a few things.

Things like, _oh, Ron still likes you, Hermione, I know he does- he's always looking at you when he thinks you won't notice and whenever Brown puts you down he _always _sticks up for you. _Hermione, not having much experience with boys beyond Harry's kind words and Malfoy's wretched ones, was more than happy to believe her. But she didn't want to break the two of them up- she had a general aversion to any sort of rule breaking; and that included things like cheating and adultery, even if the other girl in question was a complete slag. So she had decided to continue to be the nearly perfect best friend and that would have to do, for now.

Until things had begun to get dangerous, that is. Then all bets were off. Although Hermione had tried very, very hard not to encourage Ron in any way beyond friendship, the looks that he'd started to give her had grown harder to ignore; and it was getting more difficult not to forgive him for being the git he'd always been. So when Katie Bell had been gravely injured during that trip to Hogsmeade earlier in the year and Ron had been _right there _to offer his shoulder for tears and comfort, well. It hadn't taken that much longer for Hermione to make the jump to kissing him and then allowing him to pull off her clothes. Besides, now that the battle in the Department of Mysteries had made them all outright targets for Voldemort and his Death Eaters, tensions were running high between every hot blooded teenager in the school.

It had seemed quite natural at the time, really. She'd never intended for it to happen that way; with him cheating on Lavender and in a musty back tower room filled with spare cots and other furniture. But he had looked at her so tenderly and she'd wanted to run her hands through his flamingly red hair for _so long_…

Just thinking about it was enough to make her burst into tears right then and there, except she was fairly certain that crying at the breakfast table would warrant some questions. She really didn't want to answer anymore questions. Really. Ginny's had been bad enough, especially when the other girl had realized she'd forgotten to cast the contraceptive spell until well _after _they'd had sex. So here she was, an entire month after the _mistake _and she was so worried about not letting anyone _else _find out; and, of course, whether she was pregnant or not, that she couldn't even eat, let alone make conversation. So then the not eating made her worry even _more _that she might be pregnant…suffice it to say, the whole thing was very awkward.

Not to mention that Ron had taken her at her word and was back to snogging the bint like nothing had happened. The thought made her a little green in the face and she realized that she probably ought to get a panel done. She wondered how Madame Pomfrey would handle such a request and smiled a little. Ginny leaned over.

"Feeling better today? I could still kill him, if you want. Well, maybe not kill him, but I could make his life a living-"

"I'm fine, Ginny, I promise," Hermione murmured in response to Ginny's heated whisper. "Thanks for being such a terrible sister, though?" she added with a grin. Ginny nodded and straightened again, this time leaning towards her boyfriend of the day, Dean. Hermione noticed Harry's eyebrows go up and then down again as he continued to butter his toast. She smiled at him. So, Harry was finally noticing Ginny, was he?

"Harry, how are things going?" she asked quietly. He put his toast down and looked up. He knew that she was referring to his private lessons with Dumbledore and the research they were doing. As yet, Ron and Hermione were the only two who knew anything about it, and it would stay that way if Harry had anything to say. He tried to answer her question with as ambiguous a response as possible.

"Well, I guess. It's hard to know what he wants from me sometimes, or where all this is going. Potions, however," he continued, "is going swimmingly, wouldn't you say?" He cast a small grin her way.

She glared at him. "Are you going to insist on using that old book?"

Harry choked down a piece of the toast and nodded. "Why not?" he mumbled around his food. "Best thing that ever happened to me."

Hermione rolled her eyes and picked up her own toast, biting into it and chewing it slowly. It tasted okay, and she continued to eat quietly, listening to the conversations around her. When she'd finished the slice she washed it down with some pumpkin juice. Then she calmly stood up, put her own Potions book back into her bag and announced that she was off to class.

Or at least, she tried to announce it. Instead, what came out of her mouth was a stream of vomit: partially digested toast and easily recognizable pumpkin juice. She paused to thank Merlin that she'd had the good sense to spit up on the floor and not her friends, although none of them seemed particularly grateful. Ginny was up and at her side in a flash and she leaned against her friend's shoulder.

"Hermione? What's wrong?" Ginny asked. "It's not-"

"Flu," Hermione croaked out, interrupting her. "Must be the flu. Madame Pomfrey? Please?" she begged, before emptying out the glass of water she'd had that morning as well.

Ginny nodded and stood up, pulling Hermione with her. "Come on- let's go see if we can fix you. Ron," she said, turning slightly. "Come help me with her."

Lavender made some distinctly distressed whining noises and Ron grunted back at her, but he got up and walked around the table anyway. "Just don't throw up on me, alright?" he muttered, but with a small smile on his face. Hermione groaned and Ginny glared at her brother. Then the trio made their way to the hospital wing. They only stopped twice for vomit breaks and miraculously, Ron said nothing else.

* * *

While Hermione was ushered behind a screen by a concerned Madame Pomfrey, Ginny hung back near the door with her brother. Ron leaned against the wall and scuffed his shoe against the floor idly. Ginny looked over to him and frowned.

"Would you be serious?" she hissed at him.

"What?" he responded, startled. "What did I do?"

"Oh come off it, Ron! You think I don't know what's going on between you two?"

Ron's face grew red. "She told you about it? Bloody hell! She promised she wouldn't say anything-"

"She didn't have to, you brainless moron. I guessed and she filled in the rest. There wasn't anything she _had _to say. She's my best friend, practically. You thought your own sister wouldn't notice something funny going on? For Merlin's sake," she finished, crossing her arms and glaring at him.

He pressed his lips firmly together and scowled at her as well before dropping his eyes to the floor once again. If Hermione had already spilled her guts to his baby sister, then he figured it was best to shut up and not say his part. Ginny would never side with him and he felt like he owed Hermione that much; especially since, if the whole school didn't know by now, that meant Hermione had probably made Ginny promise to keep quiet as well. For _her _sake, of course.

He straightened up a bit at that thought, but still refused to look his little sister in the eye. Pride in a situation like this only went so far with Ginny.

Behind the screen, on a bed far away from the two siblings, Hermione was looking a little less pale, but no less distressed. The look of horror on Madame Pomfrey's face said everything. Hermione opened her mouth again to speak, but the nurse shook her head.

"Don't bother asking me if I'm certain, young woman," she said severely. "There isn't any point. This isn't some muggle contraption that allows for false positives." At that, big, fat tears began to roll down the younger witch's cheeks and Poppy Pomfrey allowed herself a moment of sympathy.

"Now, now. It isn't the end of the world, you know, but you are going to need to make some decisions rather quickly at this point. There's only so much of a window before things will be decided for you." She bustled about the bed and began drawing some potions and powders to her side. "For the time being, while you're in the planning stages, I will ask that you take some precautionary measures just in case. For instance, these powders will help keep you and the fetus healthy-"

"What?" Hermione interrupted her, confused. She wiped her face and gave a few loud sniffs in an attempt to pull herself together. "You mean like prenatal vitamins?"

Poppy paused and turned around. "Why, exactly like that, my dear. Just in case you decide to keep the child, although it has been many, many years since we had a documented case of pregnancy here at Hogwarts." She raised a disapproving eyebrow. "Not that it was a student who conceived previously," she added.

Hermione's tears threatened to begin afresh and she searched her pockets for a handkerchief. Finding one, she blew her nose very noisily and looked up at the nurse. "Well, it's a student now. You'd better inform me what my options are in the wizarding world, before my parents draw me out of school and I take care of things with more nasty muggle laws and contraptions," she spoke, glaring at the nurse.

Poppy harrumphed and continued to gather potions together. Turning, she presented Hermione with five bottles of varying sizes and explained what each of them was before reducing them in size and tucking them into a little pouch for the girl to take with her. Then she stood back and eyed the younger witch.

"Well, Miss Granger, your options are, as far as I know, to keep the baby or to remove it if deemed unwanted."

Hermione swallowed hard and stared at her. "You mean…terminate it?"

The nurse nodded. "That's exactly what I mean. It isn't very common in the wizarding world, mostly because witches and wizards aren't usually in the habit of producing unplanned or unwanted children, but accidents do happen from time to time. Now, the other option to _keep _the child, well. That may proove more difficult for you."

"What do you mean?"

Madame Pomfrey's eyes shifted to the side and she wrung her hands nervously. "In order to keep the child you might have to leave Hogwarts. I'm not entirely sure what school policy would be in such a case, since it's never happened. But the Headmaster will need to be informed of all the circumstances in order to make a decision, as well as your particular Head of House; and, probably, the Governors will need to convene on the matter, as your presence could be deemed unhealthy by some of the parents."

Hermione frowned. "That's so unfair! And what will happen to the father? Since his part in the matter doesn't show physically, I suppose there wouldn't be any similar punishment for him, would there?" She blew her nose again and scowled.

Poppy shook her head again. "I'm only guessing at things, Miss Granger. As I said before, this situation is as unknowable to me as it is to you; but I promise, the young man responsible in the matter will be no more well received than you," she continued even as she began writing a note for Hermione to take to Dumbledore and McGonagall. The nurse signed her name to the paper with a flourish and then gave it to Hermione, pressing it into her hand with what she hoped was a comforting smile. "Of _that_ much, Miss Granger, I can assure you."

Hermione accepted the note and her bag of potions with a resigned expression upon her face and thanked Madame Pomfrey before stepping from behind the screen and waving weakly to Ginny. Her friend waved back and moved up the aisle to greet her. Ron remained at the door.

"So?" Ginny asked quietly. Hermione shook her head and Ginny narrowed her eyes. "Oh, hell. Well, what are you going to do?"

"What choices do I have? Madame Pomfrey made it pretty clear that Hogwarts wouldn't tolerate a pregnant student," she murmured, still wiping at her nose.

Ginny frowned and tucked her friend's arm under her own. "Oh, did she? Come on, we'll see about that. Wait until my mum hears about this."

Hermione drew back. "No! Ginny, you promised not to tell anyone!"

"I promised not to tell anyone you slept with Ron, not that he got you pregnant!"

"Wha-?" came the startled response from said wizard. While they had been arguing, Ron had decided to come ask them to hurry it up, would they, or he would miss first period. Now he was standing right in front of them and had heard every word from his sister's mouth. His face was so pale the freckles stood out like measles. Ginny and Hermione stared at him, mouths hanging open, eyes wide.

He tried again. "Hermione, I- is that true? Is that what was wrong earlier? You're pregnant?"

Hermione refused to meet his eyes and Ginny seemed to speak for her. "What do you care, Ron? And don't you dare say a word to anyone about this, not even Mum. Hermione is scared sick, so just shut up until we know what's going to happen to her, okay?"

"What do you mean? Shouldn't I have some sort of say?"

Hermione looked up at him suddenly, her eyes hopeful for the first time in weeks. "Why? Do you want to have a say, Ron?"

It was his turn to drop his eyes. "I- well, it seems like I ought to…but if you'd rather handle things on your own, I'll understand." He shifted uncomfortably and Hermione needed no more answer than that. It was quite clear that Ron had only responded that way at first out of obligation or some sick sense of pride for having fathered a child. Hermione could see he didn't really want anything to do with it and she said as much.

"I see," she replied. "Um, no, I can- I can figure it out on my own. I don't think I need you anymore, Ron," she finished softly.

Ginny glared at him again and took her friend's arm once more. "You," she hissed at her brother, "will pay for this." Then she tugged on Hermione and the two girls left the wing, one dragging behind the other.

Ron watched them go, indecision very present upon his face, but after a few moments he followed them out the door and started for his first class of the day. There was no point in worrying about it; Hermione had clearly made up her mind and besides, what did he want with a child at this point in his life? He was young and poor; his family was poor- there was nothing he could give the child of his brilliant and well looked after friend that she and her family couldn't do for it already. Hanging his head dejectedly, he wandered off to the classroom and determined that although it probably wasn't the best decision he'd ever made, it was a decision at all and probably for the best. He would be no good as a father to that child.

No good at all.

* * *

Albus Dumbledore watched the most brilliant witch in Hogwarts over the tops of his half-moon spectacles. There was no twinkle present in his eyes and it was clearly making the girl nervous; not that she didn't already have reason enough to be uncomfortable. He turned his gaze upon Minerva next and the older witch stared right back at him expectantly.

"Well?" she asked. "What is this about, Albus?"

"I think," he replied slowly, "that Miss Granger ought to tell you herself."

At that, Ginny opened her mouth, but her enthusiasm to speak for her friend was quickly squelched with a stern glance from the headmaster. She bent her shoulders and began to look rather sullen. Hermione cleared her throat.

"Professor," she began, "I've been a complete idiot."

Minerva McGonagall stared at her prize student in consternation. "What on earth do you mean?"

Hermione looked back to Dumbledore for confirmation to go ahead, but he simply looked back at her impassively. She shifted in her seat some before drawing her head up and looking her house head directly in the eyes.

"I'm pregnant."

Ginny squeezed Hermione's hand a bit and she looked to her friend gratefully.

"Miss Granger!" Minerva exclaimed. "Is this some sort of a joke? Albus, please tell me why you've ordered me to come up here during the middle of my lessons-"

"It's no joke, Minerva," he spoke softly in his aged voice. "I'm afraid Miss Granger is, indeed pregnant. I have the note from Poppy right here, if you wish to see it," he continued, lifting a hand and offering the parchment to the older witch. She took it gingerly, as if it carried some sort of disease.

It didn't take her long to read through and she looked back up to Hermione, astonished. "Miss Granger?" she asked in a rather pinched voice. "Is this true?"

Hermione nodded rather shamefacedly, but refused to lower her stature. This was a mess, true, but there was no reason for her not to handle it with some dignity.

Minerva looked at Albus once more. "What is the precedent for this? How are we to handle it?"

He sighed and tugged on his beard a bit. "There is no precedent, I'm afraid. But I really see no reason for things to change…Miss Granger seems determined to take everything in stride and unless anyone particularly objects," he paused, casting a glance directly at McGonagall, "then don't see why she shouldn't stay here at Hogwarts. It will be safest for her, in any case."

Minerva looked from Dumbledore to Hermione and back again before pursing her lips. "But Albus," she whispered, "what about the threats from You Know Who?"

"Ah- you're quite right, my dear. I see what you mean." He glanced at Hermione once more and she tightened her own grip on Ginny's hand before letting go of it.

She tried to smile. "Ginny, I think you'd better leave now. I'll talk to you about everything later, alright? Thank you so much for helping me out." Ginny shook her head and looked at the headmaster only to find him nodding at her.

"Everything will be fine, Miss Weasley. But you should listen to Miss Granger. I'm afraid she's correct."

Ginny finally sighed and hugged Hermione before standing and leaving the office. Once they had heard the stone door swing closed, Hermione turned back to Dumbledore.

"What threats?" she asked quietly. "Does this have something to do with what you're working on with Harry this year?"

The headmaster stood up slowly and leaned over his desk. "Miss Granger, I'm very sorry that I can't tell you anything more than what Harry has said already. But yes, it is something to do with all that. As a result of my research, Voldemort has grown increasingly militant towards Mister Potter and his closest friends. He knows the end is drawing near and will try to strike at myself, Harry and anyone close to him in a myriad of ways in the coming months. I don't believe you have anything to worry about until after Christmas, but as of right now he is attempting to gather more forces in order to better divide our allies and have spies in more places who can more easily strike at us."

Hermione grew a little pale, but she continued to hold her head high. "Would it be better for me to terminate then, is that what you're implying?"

Minerva tut-tutted and made a motion towards her student, but Albus stayed her with a sweep of his hand. He watched Hermione carefully for any sign of fear or uncertainty. She didn't flinch beneath his gaze and he finally nodded.

"Ah. I see- so you've already made up your mind, then? And how will your parents react? And what of the youngest Mister Weasley?"

Hermione blanched. "How did you know, Sir?" she asked. McGonagall looked distinctly ill and stood up.

"Albus! Do you mean to tell me that boy is responsible? Why isn't he here? I'll call him right away-"

"No!" Hermione exclaimed, bolting forward in her seat. "I mean, please don't bother. Ronald made it perfectly clear that he wants nothing to do with it," she ended in a bitter tone. "Besides, if he's involved, or if people know that he's the father- well, it could put him in more danger than he's in right now, couldn't it? Especially since I'm muggleborn," she added, thoughtful. Her face betrayed her genuine concern for him and McGongall reached over and grasped her hands.

"You're so young," she murmured.

Hermione tried to smile. "And stupid, don't forget that part." She choked on the last word and finally let out the shudder of fear that had gripped her since Poppy had delivered the news.

"Oh, you poor girl. Albus, are we done for now?"

"We need to decide what is to be done- that is, who do we inform first and what do we tell them? And if we are _not _exposing Mister Weasley as the true father, then what do you propose to tell everyone? They must be told something if you are to stay here at school."

"But, Albus," Professor McGonagall moaned, "how can we possibly guarantee her safety and that of the child, even here at school? You know as well as I do that some of our students may very well be Death Eaters already!"

"You're absolutely right, Minerva," he replied easily. "That is why we must include Severus in the discussion."

Hermione finally stood. "Snape? But, Professor Dumbledore! He _hates _me! I mean, I certainly trust him more than Harry does, but really-"

"Nonsense. Miss Granger," he interrupted her, silencing her with another of his stern gazes, "you have a quite a problem at the moment and I am attempting to help you with it. I'm afraid that Poppy was quite right and it is unavoidable for the Governors to hear of this and they will no doubt attempt to influence myself and the other teachers to their will. But, seeing as a number of them have rather mysterious ties to dark forces and come from uncertain backgrounds themselves, it will only help to involve Professor Snape."

Hermione sat back down and nodded. She realized, perhaps a little late, that there was no winning this one. She was completely out of her element in this situation; she had no idea what to do aside from the basics of pregnancy and what would happen to her body. It was all rather frightening, actually, and she supposed she should be grateful to Dumbledore that he was willing to put so much thought and effort into the solution; especially since she was inadvertently making herself a bigger target- in motive as well as size.

"Now, if you two ladies will excuse me, I will ask Severus to join us as soon as he's available."

He made his way from the room and they could hear him flooing the newest Dark Arts professor. During the pause, McGonagall looked over to Hermione and took her hands once more.

"We'll have to move your belongings, I suppose. I'm sure the first thing the Governors will insist on is having your quarters away from the other young witches for fear of poisoning their _minds_." The older witch pronounced the final word with such vitriol that Hermione looked at her in surprise.

"Aren't you upset with me, Professor?" she asked carefully.

Minerva released her hands and sat back in her seat, straightening her robes in the process. "Upset? My dear, why would I be upset with you? Perhaps I am a little disappointed in your lack of planning, but these things were bound to begin happening sooner or later. The first things to go in times of uncertainty are moral behavior and common sense; the latter of which Ronald Weasley is lacking in spades. It's utter nonsense, his being left to his own devices while you have to face these trails on your own. Hermione, I would strongly advise you to reconsider your position on his involvement."

Hermione was about to shake her head once again when the door to Dumbledore's office slid open and an inky voice announced Severus' entrance.

"And I would be forced to strongly disagree with you, Minerva. Miss Granger's perception of the situation is quite astute, I can assure you. Why, just this morning Mister Weasley entered my classroom and promptly began to lay his hands all over that repulsive girlfriend of his. If that doesn't make his disdain for her situation obvious, I don't know what does."

"So you've already been apprised of the-"

"Yes, Minerva," came Dumbledore's gravelly voice. "I informed him of the basics in my summons, although not of the father's identity. Severus, it is vital we keep his true identity a secret."

Snape raised an eyebrow and looked to Hermione. "Please, it won't be nearly as difficult for the rest of the student body to guess as it was for me. What other oaf has our resident know-it-all been mooning over for the last three years? How in Merlin's name do you propose to keep it a secret, let alone keep her safe from rumors and the local bullies?"

Hermione flushed and glared at him, but kept her mouth shut. Now was not the time to annoy Snape. Clearly, Dumbledore believed they would need his help to come up with a satisfactory solution…she just wasn't entirely certain she wanted to hear the man's ideas yet. Whatever they were, they would be necessary, but probably _not_ pleasant. For anyone.

Snape smirked and looked back to the headmaster, who was speaking again. "Minerva, I know you won't approve, but I hope you can see that this is the only way we can keep Miss Granger with us and safe at the same time. Severus, we must keep the baby's paternity a secret in order for the story to hold."

"You mean you're going to tell a lie," Hermione interpreted, her brow furrowed. "How is that going to help?"

"Yes, strictly speaking, it will be lying. But just a small fib, really. The kind that happens all the time when a young woman finds herself in a difficult situation." Albus sat down behind his desk and began to draw up some parchment and turn it into paperwork. "Now, we will need these forms to be signed by the appropriate parties when the time comes, but this one can go to Poppy right away." He paused and looked over his spectacles at Severus. "That is, they can go once I have a name from you."

Snape paled in an imperceptible manner and glanced furtively at Minerva and Hermione. "Albus, you can't be serious about this-"

"Severus, it is the only way!" Dumbledore finally exclaimed, losing his composure in front of Hermione for only the second time since she'd known him. The quill in his hands bent, though it didn't break. He was standing over his desk, eyes and anger turned upon her former Potions professor fully.

"You know as well as I that if we keep her here without the cover of the Death Eaters that Voldemort will attack! He will find a way- he has every other year, has he not? Despite our best precautions, the beast finds his way into our safe haven and continues to corrupt our students with threats of violence and death- how can you not aid us now, after everything else?"

Snape didn't cower beneath the older man's gaze, but his face did soften and he cast another look at her. Then he spoke in what would have been a riddle to anyone except Hermione.

"You're certain he needs her?" By which he meant Harry, of course. His beady brown eyes shifted back to Dumbeldore's tired face and he waited patiently for the answer.

Albus finally nodded and sat back down. "There was never the question he didn't. What you really want to know is why you should risk yourself to save the unborn innocent."

Snape stood as well and began pacing. "That's not it- Albus, what of the name I give you? What will happen to him? I'm not even sure someone suitable exists at the moment!"

"Yes, you do," Dumbledore responded evenly. Severus looked up at him.

"So you had him in mind all along."

"He is the best candidate. With the task he's been given, he stands the best chance of negating any possible future actions with this simple one. I can assure you; the protection of a muggleborn witch's child will erase a multitude of sins after the war is over." He looked over to Hermione and smiled reassuringly. She was trying to follow the conversation, but had no idea who they could be talking about, or why.

"Of course, many precautions must be taken. Miss Granger will have to take private lessons from you, as Harry did, if she is to withstand questioning. Additionally, we will need to speak to both Mister and Miss Weasley about their secrecy."

"Are you not even going to give the boy a choice?" Severus practically snarled at the headmaster, who didn't bat an eyelash.

"He will have a choice, but I believe I know what his answer will be. With his current family situation and the stress he clearly feels at serving the Dark Lord, what other choice does he have? The boy wants out; he just may not be certain of it yet. Let us give him a reason to be so."

Snape walked up to Dumbledore's desk and leaned over it. "Albus, are they to know all our secrets, then? What has Miss Granger done to deserve these confidences beyond get herself so imprudently _knocked up_?" he hissed.

At that, Minerva stood as well and looked very much as though she would've liked to stamp her foot. "How dare you speak of her that way! Albus, will you do something about this man's language? Miss Granger is sitting right here! It isn't as though she lost her hearing along with her good sense," she added with a nod of her head.

Hermione sighed and sank lower into her chair. She knew she deserved all the inadvertent barbs from her house head, but really- was it going to be this bad when the entire school knew? Or would it be worse? Snape must've seen the trepidation on her face, for he turned and leered.

"Oh, it will be much, much worse, my dear Gryffindor." Then he turned back to Dumbledore, mumbled a few more words- most likely of complaint- and left. Minerva sat down again.

"Now, Albus, you had better tell us exactly what this plan is before the substitute father arrives," she spoke.

"I will," he nodded, "as soon as Miss Weasley comes back in." At his words, the door opened yet again and Ginny came around to sit by Hermione once more. Hermione took her hand and gave it a squeeze.

"Thank you for joining us again, Miss Weasley. I'm sure you're curious as to what all this is about. There is a law," he began, "created by Lord Voldemort himself. It does not exist within the Ministry; only within the confines of his Death Eaters. What this particular magical _rule_, if you will, secures is the safety of any child of a Death Eater. The rule is itself fuzzy on what constitutes the child of a Death Eater, and thus common usage holds that any child claimed by a Death Eater is to be safe from harm by the hand of Voldemort or any of his followers." He paused and glanced about the trio, as if waiting for questions. When none came, he continued. "It was, of course, originally intended to promote the birth of pureblood children, but Voldemort does not indulge in bendable rules. So even though you are muggleborn, Miss Granger, he will- and we grant that there is always a small chance he may change his mind- but he will keep his rules, even for the very thing he detests."

Hermione's mind began to make the appropriate connections and she held Ginny's hand more tightly. "Wait- so you mean- some of the students at Hogwarts have already taken the Dark Mark?"

"I'm afraid so, Miss Granger. However, its effects are not irreversible, as you heard me telling Professor Snape. Now, I need only two things more from you for now."

She nodded and he smiled grimly. "I'm glad to see you so ready to take responsibility. It will make the coming months that much easier for you- if they are easy at all. You must- and no, Minerva, don't protest. This is necessary. But you and everyone who knows the true identity of the child, that is, the true father, must make an Unbreakable Vow."

Ginny jumped in her seat. "Can't you just erase my memory? Mum will kill me if she finds out I made an Unbreakable!"

"Professor, isn't that illegal for witches our age or something?" Hermione asked, wrinkling her brow in concern for her friend. She wouldn't have any problem making the vow, personally, but she didn't expect everyone to have to suffer for her sake.

"The mind is a tricky thing, Miss Weasley. Sometimes it betrays us when we least expect it," Minerva said quietly. "You're right, Albus, I don't like it one bit, but I understand why it's necessary. Shouldn't young Mister Weasley be here as well, then?"

"He's on his way here now. I asked Professor Snape to send him up from the class. We won't meet with his substitute yet- I need to speak to him privately and you need some time to sleep on your decision, Miss Granger."

"But I already told you- I've made up my mind!" she cried, frustrated at the wait. "Can't we just get on with it?"

"Hermione," McGonagall surprised her by using her first name, "please don't be rash. He's right, you do need to think some more; but more than that, your friends must be informed of their responsibilities in this situation as well and allowed to think them over."

"But if Hermione's decision remains the same, I'll still have to go through with it," Ginny responded.

Dumbledore nodded and Ginny eyed him warily before turning to her friend. "It's fine, Hermione," she murmured. "I agree with them- even if I know that I would do this, without question- I need to prepare myself. We can't all be as mature as you," she added, smiling mischievously. Hermione let out a small laugh and nodded.

"Okay, I see what you mean. I can wait another day."

Her ascent was punctuated by a timid knock upon the outer door and Hermione couldn't help but stiffen again. That had to be Ron. Ginny watched the blood drain from her friend's face and gave her hands an extra squeeze.

Ron's shoulders were hunched as he walked into the small gathering and took a seat. His ears were bright red and his hands shook as he took them out of his pockets.

"Professor," he muttered in acknowledgement of McGonagall and the Headmaster. Dumbledore watched his shamed behavior and said nothing for a few moments. When he finally spoke, his voice was stern.

"Mister Weasley, I understand you are partly responsible for the situation Miss Granger is in."

"Yes, Sir," Ron mumbled.

"She wants to remain at Hogwarts and does not wish to terminate the pregnancy; do you understand?"

Ron didn't mumble this time, but nodded miserably.

"In order for us- Hogwarts- to guarantee a safe and healthy delivery of her baby, we cannot allow the true identity of the father to be known. Are you prepared to relinquish all custody rights to the child and never let it be known that you are the true father?"

At that, Ron looked up and directly at Hermione. There was a question in his eyes that she wished she could have answered truthfully, but she knew that what was happening was for the best. So instead of jumping up and throwing herself into his arms, demanding that he marry her and make her an honest woman and be a father to this mistake of a child, she just…_sat _there. It was the hardest thing she'd ever had to do. To stare at him blankly in return, not signaling how much she wished none of this was happening.

She spoke to him quietly. "It's for the best, Ron. I don't mind, really."

He seemed to relax into his seat then, as if in relief. He smiled at her- gratefully? Hermione felt her heart beat erratically. Wow. The wanker really didn't want any part of it, did he? Well, fine. Two could play that game.

Ron looked back to Dumbledore. "Yeah, I can do that," he answered, his voice clear and unwavering.

"Thank you for your help, Mister Weasley- in order to fulfill your promise, we will require an Unbreakable Vow of you. Do you understand?"

Rather than look green, as Ginny had upon hearing the news, Ron almost brightened perceptibly. Hermione could tell that the thought of him making an Unbreakable Vow before his elder brothers seemed to thrill him. Dumbledore merely eyed him and then continued.

"Now, I am giving you all the rest of the day and this evening to consider your final decisions and what they will mean before we meet again. I will expect you all in my office early tomorrow morning. Until then, please keep your wits and thoughts about you!"

The three students stood up uncertainly- was the wretched conference truly over for now? What were they supposed to do with themselves the rest of the day?

Professor McGonagall leaned over to her two female pupils and smiled gently at them. "You both may take the rest of the day off. I'll see to your sick passes." Ginny and Hermione thanked her and smiled gratefully before taking their leave and heading out the door. Before Ron could follow them, however, Minerva lay a hand on his shoulder.

"You, on the other hand, I wish to see in my office _immediately_." Then she patted said shoulder particularly hard and swept from the headmaster's office, the red haired wizard trailing behind her.

Dumbledore watched them all go and sat down again to await Snape's reappearance and consider the proposed course of action. Was he doing the right thing? Should he consider a memory charm instead of a Vow? It was so difficult to know, sometimes, what was best. Especially where one's students were concerned.

Especially when one's students were not behaving like students and instead like miniature adults, with half the brains. He paused to consider that. Yes, teenagers actually held many qualities in common with Death Eaters, didn't they? The thought brought a smile to his face and he felt himself beginning to laugh.

How _funny_ everything was, just when it was all going _wrong_.

* * *

**AN: There will be rapid updates after this, I think. Again, this is not a new story; it was previously available only on Granger Enchanted, but with their new enforcing of their beta rule, and my impatience, I am moving it here until I acquire said beta over there.**


	2. Throw the Deadbolt

**I do not own Harry Potter or make any money off this fic. All rights to J.K. Rowling, etc, etc.**

* * *

Hermione sat on her bed, huddled up against the headboard, knees tucked up to her chin. She was curled up very tightly, partly to savor the ability to do so. She supposed that in a few more months it would be more difficult to curl into herself; and eventually impossible. She smiled ruefully at Ginny, who was sitting across from her at the foot of the bed.

"Did that really just happen?" she whispered.

Ginny nodded solemnly and tucked her own legs up under herself, mirroring Hermione. "Oh, Hermione. What are we going to do?"

Hermione laughed rather bitterly. "You mean what am _I _going to do."

Ginny shook her head quickly. "No, I meant _we_. I'm not leaving you to deal with a Weasley's mess all on your own. And no matter what Ron says, he'll help too. That or I'll really kill him this time."

"He can help by staying out of it," Hermione muttered sadly. "It won't do us any good if I not only have an extremely unlikely candidate for the father, but Ron is also continually hanging about. It might throw the whole story! Someone might be smart enough to guess the truth."

Ginny looked about nervously before she remembered that they had cast a number of charms and spells to keep their confidences safe. She sighed heavily and picked at her sweater a bit.

"Yeah, I suppose you're right, as usual." She looked up to her friend, her eyes asking the same question Ron's had. "Do you think it will ever be safe to tell the truth? Maybe we could convince Dumbledore to put some kind of clause in the vow."

"I don't know, Ginny," Hermione replied evenly. "But I suspect he will do something like that anyway, although it won't change the fact that Ron will still have signed away his biological rights. We have closed adoptions in the muggle world, so I'm not unfamiliar with the whole concept."

"It's just that- well, Mum would be so sorry to miss out on the life of any grandchild…and yours is going to be the first."

"Yes, but she'll never know, that's the whole point. Ginny, I know you probably don't feel good about this…I don't expect any of you to be genuinely okay with it. _I'm_ not even very happy about the whole thing; but it's what has to happen! And yes," she continued more quietly, "it is rather like lying to your mum. Do you think I enjoy the thought? She's been like a surrogate mother to me."

"I know," Ginny replied. "And I'm sorry." She furrowed her brow and chewed on her lip for a moment. "So, what do you think it will be like, the Vow?"

Hermione smiled gratefully, very glad for the change of subject, particularly to a far more academic one. "Well," she began, "I've read a number of things about them, and you really shouldn't be too nervous…" Scooting closer to her friend, the two girls began to exchange information and support, safe for now in their spelled bed chamber, far from prying eyes and ears.

* * *

Across the castle, down in the bowels of the dungeons, Professor Severus Snape was reorganizing the papers on his desk and trying to come up with a suitably convincing argument for the student in question. So far, he could think of nothing better than what Dumbledore had already suggested, and he wasn't sure if it was quite good enough. Then there was the question of how to word the request without giving away his own double agent position.

He'd asked the boy to come by his office after the lunch period, which was swiftly approaching. Turning from his desk, he was about to pile the excess papers on top of a nearby cabinet when the door to his office swung open and a familiar voice assaulted his ears.

"Well, Professor? What is this about?"

Snape stiffened before he continued the project of cleaning off his desk. As he turned back around, he lifted his head briefly to the boy's face.

"Ah, Mister Malfoy. You're early."

Draco rolled his eyes and sat down in a nearby chair, propping his feet up on the edge of the newly cleaned desk surface. He pulled an apple from his sleeve and began to eat it.

"Yeah, well. There wasn't anything good for lunch."

Severus raised an eyebrow and pulled out his own desk chair, waving a hand at Draco's feet in the process, which promptly fell to their rightful place on the ground. Draco laughed and continued to eat, watching his surrogate godfather closely.

Snape put on his best face and crossed his arms. "Draco, I think it best that I be straightforward with you. I know about your induction and the task the Dark Lord has given you. I met with your mother this summer, before the term began and swore to help you in any way possible."

Draco sat forward in his seat, a look of anger and indignation upon his face. "I don't need-" he began, but was swiftly silenced by a stern glance from Severus. He sat back petulantly and tossed the remains of the apple in Snape's garbage can. "Alright," he finally managed in an even tone of voice. "Let's say, for the sake of it, that I actually believe you and you aren't just trying to displace my family's position. What does that have to do with this meeting?"

"A certain…situation has just come to my attention that the headmaster could use my help with. It's the first of its kind here at Hogwarts, though not likely to be the last, and very, very delicate."

"Why would I want to help the old cock-up? I'm supposed to be killing him, remember?"

A pained look flashed across Severus' face, so quickly that Draco wasn't sure he'd even seen it. "Helping him could- _will,_ actually- bring you in closer contact with him; even into his confidence. And the other student in the situation- well, let's just say that the Dark Lord will certainly not begrudge you the opportunity to grow closer to her. Suffice it to say, your actions will do a multitude of good for your current stature within the ranks and even help you reach your goal."

Draco had leaned forward again in his seat, his expression wary, but hopeful. "I'm listening."

"I don't expect you to approve of it, mind you- it won't be easy and you will have to face a barrage of questions and even lie to the Dark Lord. You will have to learn to be as cruel and deceptive as _dear _Bellatrix. Are you prepared to do so?"

The blood drained from his face, but the young man nodded, even smirked. "It isn't like I haven't had to lie to him already. Isn't that the nature of our company? We all lie and bow and scrape, to one another and to _him_- that's what happens when ambition and power meet mercenary tendencies." He shrugged. "He knows we do it, because he does it right back to us. We're all constantly double crossing one another." Here he made a pointed glance at his professor. "It makes me rather sick, sometimes."

Snape raised an eyebrow, surprised at Draco's sudden insight, but ignoring the obvious jab at himself. Perhaps Dumbledore had been right…perhaps the boy was having second thoughts. Doubts, even. Severus continued to eye him, but waited a moment before speaking again. Draco seemed lost in his thoughts and Snape didn't want to rush him. He needed the boy's full cooperation- no doubts or fears. It was all in, or nothing at all.

Draco finally seemed to shake himself back to the present and looked to Snape again. "Do I have to agree first, or are you going to tell me what this big secret is before I throw my life away?"

Severus allowed a snort of derision and stared at the younger wizard. "You've already done that, my boy. Now will you help or not? Mind you- don't think of it as helping the other side. What you're doing will greatly benefit your cause."

"Why don't you let me be the judge of that," the boy muttered at him, crossing his own arms.

Snape cleared his throat and placed his hands upon his desk. Now came the hard part.

"A certain student has found herself in a very delicate situation. Partly because of who she is, the situation puts her at great risk for bullying by your fellow housemates. However, she wishes to remain at Hogwarts regardless of her personal safety. The headmaster," he continued, "has made a ruling on the situation that the only way she can remain here is if we guarantee her safety…and the only way for him to do that is if a Death Eater steps in."

Draco's eyes narrowed. "What are you going on about? What kind of situation could any girl get into that would put her in danger at _school_-" He stopped suddenly and his eyes grew wide again. "Oh, Merlin- this is rich! Some bint is preggers? And you need a Death Eater to claim the baby so that she doesn't come to any harm? Oh, that is too much!" He began laughing, rocking back and forth in the chair. Snape stared at him, slightly disgusted.

"This is not funny!" he finally roared. Draco sobered and stared back, a little frightened. Severus glared at him and continued to speak. "I admit, when Dumbledore first brought the idea to my attention I thought he was insane. Who would ever believe that you and _her_ would come together in such a manner?" He began pacing behind his desk and Draco's eyes followed him as the professor spoke aloud, almost to himself. "But this is, in fact, the perfect opportunity for you. Your participation will speak well of you to those in positions of power on the other side; and at the same time it will allow you to infiltrate their ranks, putting you in closer contact with them. The Dark Lord can hardly punish you for attempting to complete the task he has given you- especially in so clever a manner."

Draco stood as well reached a hand out towards Snape. His face was almost contrite- _almost_. "Look, Professor, I see what you mean. Even I can see sense at times. I admit, it hasn't been easy so far. I'm worried."

Snape turned to face him. "Draco," he murmured. The boy shook his head and lowered his arm.

"Don't say anything kind or encouraging, for Merlin's sake. I don't need words- they won't help. But if you really think that my compliance in this matter _will _help, then I'll do it."

Severus eyed him severely, looking for any manner of duplicity; but all he saw was a scared, spoiled little boy he had known since birth. He nodded. "Alright. I'll give you a pass for your next period and we'll go see the headmaster. I would say that you won't regret this, but I'm confident that by the time this war is over we'll all have a few regrets."

Draco nodded and sat back down to wait for the pass. His face was drawn, but his shoulders were upright and almost stiff with resolve. He knew what needed to be done in order to save his family and his pride: anything…he was willing to do _anything_.

* * *

Half an hour later, Draco was repeating Snape's private opinion of the matter.

He leveled his gaze at the old wizard and frowned. "You're insane," he said calmly.

Dumbledore smiled evenly. "Am I, Mister Malfoy? The choice is, of course, entirely yours and if you have any apprehensions I completely understand. After all, this is a rather unusual request we are making of you. And you are no doubt wondering why, if I know of your allegiance, I am allowing you to remain in school."

Draco eyed him warily. "The question had crossed my mind, yes."

"The answer is both complicated and, in turn, quite simple. The chances of you switching allegiances if I toss you out of school now, the only safe haven for many young people from both sides of the divide, are very low, indeed. Why would I discourage any young witch or wizard from continuing her or his education, in fact? We will all need all the knowledge we can obtain to prepare ourselves for the coming war. Needless to say," he continued, "I am hopeful that helping us in this manner will be good for you."

"You want me to switch sides?" Draco asked, incredulous. He looked to Snape, suddenly confused and trying to remember what his house head had mentioned earlier. _He will expect you to help in order to secure favor from his side for the sake of your family. Don't question it; just go along with it for now. For Merlin's sake, boy, it's not a sin to consider what might happen to you if the war doesn't go our way._

Draco smoothed his face out after a moment of what he hoped looked like indecision. "What are your terms? It's not that I don't…_want_ to help…it's just that won't it seem a bit strange, me claiming to be the father of a mud- of a muggleborn's baby?"

Dumbledore smiled a little at him and shook his head. "It's a bit strange, Miss Granger being pregnant at all, so I suspect that once people get over the initial shock, they'll be willing to accept any answer. However, you will have to act the part. We still have about three more months before it will begin to show, so that gives us enough time to set up the charade."

Draco coughed and Snape looked over to him. The boy was looking decidedly green. "Does that mean I'll have to- er-"

"Make it appear as though you and she have been lovers? Yes, Mister Malfoy, I'm afraid so. I suspect most everyone will assume you were simply trying to get closer to Harry for your father's sake and some plot by Voldemort. However, no one needs know that you have taken the Mark aside from those people who are already aware of it. That, at least, will save you some embarrassment."

"Wait, you haven't told me who the father is, or how long you expect me to keep up the act," Draco interjected, frowning a bit. "Shouldn't I be aware of all the details?"

"I was getting there, Mister Malfoy," Albus murmured, sighing and removing his spectacles. He took a very human moment suddenly and rubbed his eyes. Draco suddenly felt a little- just a _little_, mind you- _bad _about the task he had been given. Not just the task he'd been given, either, but that he was actually trying to _complete_ it as well. He raised his eyebrows and glanced away from the sight that made him suddenly uncomfortable: a very, very old man trying to worry out a problem he would never be able to solve, because the key rested on the shoulders of a sixteen year old wizard.

It was rather sad.

Snape noticed him looking away and watched his face from the corner of his eyes. That reaction was interesting. Perhaps Albus was right about him, indeed. He shifted in his seat and looked back the headmaster and the person with whom his true loyalties lay. Severus hoped- he desperately hoped- that this plot would achieve what the man expected. He was fond of Draco, despite the boy's terrible manners and overwhelming desire to do everything on his own. He had known Lucius and Narcissa for a very long time and in spite of their ties, they were his best friends after Albus Dumbledore. If Albus even was a friend. The man was more of a protector and mentor- a leader. Not really a friend, but he had never betrayed Severus and in his world, that counted for an awful lot. Voldemort? Had committed nothing _but_ betrayals, since the minute Snape had been introduced to the disgusting half-man.

Albus finally lifted his head and replaced the glasses. "As to the father's identity, You will be asked to make an Unbreakable Vow so that we know you will keep your word and the true father's identity a secret. As for how long you are to maintain the illusion, well, that depends upon you and Miss Granger. I imagine, however, that once the war is over- assuming our side wins- there would no longer be a need to keep up appearances. If we go by that model, you could be father to the child for as much as a year, or longer. Are you prepared to accept such responsibilities?"

Draco looked to him again, his face once more unreadable. "And am I expected to protect her as well?"

"That is understood, yes. But if you wish for your responsibility to extend only to the child, you will need to speak to her."

He shook his head. "No, that's alright. I don't really mind that part, I suppose. It's just that this is all going to be such an _annoyance_…just when things were getting comfortable, too," he murmured, feigning indifference. _Although, _a voice in his head whispered, _it will be easier to accept this responsibility this year, while your father is away. He would _never _believe any of these lies. Better hope your mum doesn't go visiting him in Azkaban with the news. _

Dumbledore watched him carefully for a few seconds, but seemed satisfied by his performance. At any rate, he was getting what he wanted from Draco, wasn't he? He looked to Snape, waiting for some confirmation that the boy was committed to the little drama they had devised. When the man met his eyes, Albus glanced back to Draco.

"So you agree to our terms, with the knowledge that we offer you protection for yourself and family, if situations allow and favor our side; and in exchange Miss Granger and her unborn child receive protection from you and your family name under the law of the Death Eaters…that you will maintain this lie until a future time which Miss Granger requests or agrees to; including under any questioning by your fellow Death Eaters, the Ministry, the School of Governors, classmates, and even family members."

Draco kept his head up and the nonchalant expression upon his face, though he knew his eyes had hardened just a bit. He couldn't help _some _reactions. After all, they were asking to lie to everyone and everything he had ever known, on the off chance that his side would _lose_. It wasn't much of a bargain, but Snape was right. This agreement would position him closer to Potter and Dumbledore, leaving him, he hoped, plenty of good opportunities to complete his task. The eyes which had just hardened, seconds before, softened again as he thought of the old man. He did- he did _want _to complete the task, right? It wasn't as if Dumbledore had ever done anything for _him._ He wasn't Hogwarts' prize student; why should the headmaster care about him?

_But he hasn't kicked you out of school, though he knows what you are now and where your loyalties lie. He convinced the Ministry to spare your mother when your father went up for trial…he hasn't been deliberately unkind, only perhaps played favorites with that sickening Potter. _Draco growled at the voice and it shut up. _That is reason enough to hate the man, _he told himself as he turned his attention back to the headmaster.

"Well, are we going to do this now, or later?" he asked.

"Perhaps you would like to know who the father is, first, Draco?" Snape reminded him. Draco merely shrugged.

"What good will that do me? You'll just have to make me take an Unbreakable if you tell me, so why not get the Vow out of the way? What were you going to do to me after this meeting if I said no? Some kind of memory charm, I bet."

Albus stood up, smiling wearily. "He has a point, Severus. Well then, Mister Malfoy? You are ready?"

Draco stood as well and nodded, not bothering to look to Snape again. He would be on his own for the time being and it was best he learned to make his own decisions- to stop taking cues from those around him. In order to complete his task, in order to save his family, he would have to be strong enough on his own. No one could assume or know that Snape had taken a hand in this situation. In order to be believable, it would have to appear as though he had done everything himself. He looked the headmaster directly in the eyes, grateful for the lessons from _dear _Bellatrix. For all her faults, she was his aunt, after all. He smirked.

"I'm ready."


	3. Tie Back the Drapes

**I do not own Harry Potter or make any money off this fic. All rights belong to J.K. Rowling and Warner Bros., etc, etc.**

* * *

The next day dawned bright and sunny, though the wind around the towers of the castle blew hard and fast, making the stone floors chilly and the air inside the dorms crisp. Hermione woke up, no less certain of her future, but perhaps a little more confident of her decision. She and Ginny had spent the better part of yesterday discussing the options, guessing at who the substitute would be, and making lists of the things Hermione would need for her new rooms. She had received a note yesterday afternoon from Professor McGonagall, informing her that she would not be moved to the new rooms until just after Christmas; that they would come up with a suitable explanation for the move without revealing the pregnancy, if necessary. The woman had also sent along a new schedule for her of private lessons with Madame Pomfrey for regular check-ups and information on prenatal care; and lessons with Professor Snape on Occlumency and the like, for she would likely need such skills if the lie were to hold. One thing was certain in Hermione's mind: no matter who they chose as the surrogate father, the Death Eaters would not accept his word without question. However, she was willing to believe Dumbledore that this was the best way to keep the two of them- how odd to think of herself as two, now- _safe_.

She was the first one up, as usual, and had the bathroom to herself. She took her time with the hot water, luxuriating in the shower and letting the heat work the knots of tension from her neck. When she stepped from the shower stall, she wrapped herself in her robe and walked across the bathroom to look in the mirror. She liked what she saw: slim, damp, dark curls upon her head, bright brown eyes. She smiled and then wiped at the mirror, leaving a streak of water drops across it. What was the point of vanity, of enjoying one's own beauty? It was wasteful and weak. She sniffed and left the bathroom, eager to cover her naked body and go down to the common room. Every spare minute would be spent studying these next few months; she now had not only her regular school work to cover, but the new subjects to consider as well. Why pause to look at her body and feel sad about losing it when it would be right there after the birth of the child- perhaps a little more stretched and scarred, but still there. She wasn't losing anything, really. What poppycock. Throwing on her clothes and muttering a drying spell for her hair before sweeping it back into a knot, she grabbed her books and made for the common room. She would be meeting Ginny in another half hour to go down to Dumbledore's office together and she wanted to use as much time before hand as possible to collect her thoughts and calm her racing heart. And that was always best done with _books_.

Certainly not Ron, as her aching heart kept trying to tell her.

Unfortunately, she didn't have any recovery time as he was exactly the person she found waiting down in the common room. No Lavender around this time; no other students up and about yet, the early morning light just barely streaming in through the frosty window panes…

He turned his head towards her and smiled weakly. "Hello," he said quietly.

Rather than answer, she pressed her lips together in a firm line and marched forward from the steps over to a table. Setting her satchel down, she yanked a chair out and plopped down before beginning to pull some books out. She didn't look back at him. Hermione could hear Ron sigh and then get up from the sofa and walk over to her. She refused to look up from her school books and continued to turn pages mutely, hoping the anger and shame emanating from her in waves would give him the hint.

Either Ron was very stupid or very, very sorry, because he didn't take the hint and he certainly didn't leave. Instead, he pulled out the other chair opposite her and sat down as well.

"I'm sorry," he whispered.

Hermione frowned and responded without looking up. "Oh, for Merlin's sake, Ron! Can't you even cast the appropriate spells first?" Then she pulled out her wand and immediately cast several silencing and illusion charms. "Or are you trying to inadvertently get us both killed in a subconscious attempt to take responsibility?" she concluded, before snapping her attention back to the page before her.

Ron shifted in his seat. "Hermione, you don't have to do this- I don't- I mean, what I'm trying to say is-"

Hermione felt her heart race even faster as he spoke. Was he trying to tell her he didn't like Lavender at all? That he wanted her and their baby? She felt her eyes look up to him of their own accord. His blue eyes were looking right into hers, his mouth open, ready to say something so, so important…

The moment was gone in an instant as Ginny burst onto the scene. The younger girl practically tripped down the last steps into the common room and immediately knelt to tie the lace that had stopped her progress. She looked up at the two of them.

"Hi, all," she muttered, her eyes flashing quickly from one person to the next and back. "Everyone ready to go make an Unbreakable?" She stood and brushed her robes off as she slung her book bag over a shoulder. Walking over to the table, she eyed Ron as she spoke to Hermione. "How did you sleep? Did you take the potions Pomfrey gave you?"

Hermione finally broke off her gaze from Ron's and looked up to her friend. "Yes to both questions. Well, I suppose if we're all here then we should head down now."

Ron placed his hands on the table and shoved himself out the chair and away from the two of them. "Right. Let's get this over with," he replied. His voice, if Hermione had listened a little more closely, sounded gruff, like it often did when he was trying to hide emotion. In this case, disappointment mingled with regret. Ron knew his relationship with Hermione would never be the same now, and for what? Over jealousy that she had kissed Krum two years ago? Over some blond bimbo of a witch he didn't even love, that he had no intention of spending the rest of his life with? And that it _could _have been Hermione- brilliant, shining witch that she was- tore him apart inside. He had loved her and used her very ill all at once. He should have stopped them that day in the storage room- he knew where it was headed and he had gladly accepted her anyway- eager to feel her instead of Lavender, for once- eager to have the witch he dreamed of…and so he'd taken her, without breaking things off with Lavender first, without treating Hermione respectfully, without telling her that it was _her _he loved, and not her classmate. He'd lost his chance to make things right with her. The least he could do now was give her what she wanted: a safe future for a child he might never see and a life without him in it as anything more than a friend.

He opened the door and left the tower without another word, Ginny and Hermione following him a few yards behind; the latter witch's eyes were glued to the floor in front of her, her cheeks bright pink with repressed anger and sorrow. Ginny watched her brother's back as they walked, talking to Hermione in quiet tones the whole time. She could feel the tension in the room when she had entered earlier and had known what Ron was up to immediately. He was scared of their decisions; he wanted out of his relationship with Lavender; and wanted Hermione back now that he knew he could have her for life, if he cared enough. Hermione was the kind of girl who liked one guy; who wanted to have kids with just one person; marry just one person.

Ginny narrowed her eyes. Ron wasn't the right wizard, of that much she was certain. Her friend was brilliant- she deserved someone who complemented her _and _complimented her. One that would take care of her always; not go out with another girl and flaunt his relationships because he didn't know how to tell a girl he liked her. It was ridiculous. So, even though she knew Hermione had doubts about the decision and was still very much in love with her brother, she was determined to see the match destroyed…because for all his posturing, Ron wasn't in love with Hermione. It was plain as the day she was born, which, come to think of it, had been windy and rainy, her mum had told her. She smiled to herself and tucked her arm through Hermione's, tugging the other girl along. Well, she hadn't been against the match all along. For a really long time, in fact, she had just assumed Ron and Hermione were already dating; most of the school had. Now, however, she knew better and was determined to see Hermione wait it out for someone who truly deserved her. Ron was _not _that wizard. Her mum would back her up on that any day, she was certain.

* * *

Hermione was quiet the whole way to Dumbledore's office, listening to Ginny's soothing words and aimless chatter; watching the way her feet hit the stones beneath them; wondering if she would need to buy new shoes before the whole ordeal was over. She still hadn't quite come to terms with the fact that she was pregnant; it was so unreal for her- she wasn't even able to think of the thing inside her as _her _baby. What were the odds she would ever see it after it was born, anyhow? If her life was truly being targeted by Voldemort now, the odds that she would be able to keep the child, even after it being claimed by a Death Eater, were slim. What Death Eater in his right mind would trade his pureblood status and his own personal safety in order to save not only a baby that wasn't his, but her life as well? The reality of the situation hit her hard then, and she paused just as the trio reached the gargoyle guarding the entrance to the headmaster's office.

Ginny looked back to her and grimaced. "Hermione? Are you feeling ill again?"

Her friend shook her head. "No, it's just that all of this-" she gestured helplessly. "All the secrets, from your family and mine- from Harry, even? Over a child I'm bearing but might never see? I- oh, wait," she stopped short, throwing a hand over her mouth. Perhaps it had been morning sickness all along and not anxiety. Hermione could see that it was going to be hard to tell the difference.

Ginny's eyes widened. "Uh, Ron, get out of the way now, you oaf, or help me get her up the stairs, quick!"

He turned and saw the panic on Ginny's face and the ill sheen upon Hermione's and within the next second the three of them were taking the steps two at a time, after threatening a disgruntled gargoyle with vomit. Ron heaved against the door and practically threw his little sister and Hermione inside before entering the room himself, a little more slowly. Their entrance was greeted with silence and Ron and Ginny stopped short- only Hermione made any noise, kneeling on the floor in front of Dumbledore's only wastebasket, wretching up whatever she'd eaten for dinner last night. She didn't notice anything untoward until she sat back up, face flushed and chest still heaving, to the strains of dueling preparations on Ron's part.

And yelling on the part of her professors, of course.

"Mister Weasley, that is quite unnecessary, I assure you!"

"Albus, will you please do something about this young twerp before he kills Miss Granger's only hope?"

Then another familiar voice drawled right over her kneeling form. "I can handle myself, thanks anyway, Professor. It appears Granger can't, though."

Hermione turned her face upward towards the young man in possession of said voice and blinked warily, still lifting the sleeve of her robe to wipe at the corners of her mouth. The boy- wizard, really- reached a hand down towards her and offered her a handkerchief, which she accepted, before also offering a hand to help her up. It was rather astonishing, really.

She threw up again and Draco chuckled. "Well, I suppose you'd best stay there for now. Can I get you anything? Tea? A cushion for your knees?"

"What, so she can stay on the floor where a muggle like her belongs, is that what you mean, Malfoy?" Ron spat.

Draco turned on him dangerously quick and frowned. "Those are your words, Weasel, not mine. And since when are you so quick to defend her honor, anyhow? Aren't you the reason she's in this situation?"

Ron's face paled and he shut up, crossing his arms angrily and looking away. Draco turned back to Hermione. "Let me know if you need anything," he murmured coolly, resting one hand on her shoulder.

She stiffened at first, but found his touch was gentle and reassuring, rather than commanding and aggressive. Well, she supposed he meant it to be reassuring. And it was rather nice of him to stick up for her in front of Ron that way. Still, he was probably just being nice because he had decided he didn't like being a Death Eater and was turning coward. So she was the perfect out for him- doing something good for their side, and all. Well, she wasn't going to make it too easy for him. It wasn't like she wanted _him_ to marry her or anything.

Hermione directed a curt smile over her shoulder at him before shrugging his hand off. He let go easily, however, and returned to his seat. What she didn't know was that it had taken a great deal of persuasion and pleading to get him to consent to this position, finally. He had taken the Unbreakable Vow yesterday, as promised, but when he had discovered the father's identity…

"_Well, now that's done with," Draco murmured, almost as if bored by the whole affair. He fell back into his seat and crossed his legs. "So tell me, who's the father? My bets are on dear Potter, of course. I've heard talk of Weasley as well, but that must be nonsense. They're so ill suited to one another."_

_Snape rolled his eyes and Albus seemed to grimace. "Actually, Mister Malfoy, it is Mister Weasley. I hope this won't change your position-"_

_Draco had sat back up immediately, eyes flashing as he turned to Snape. "Weasley? _Weasley_? I'm to pretend to be father to his half-breed? That blood traitor?" _

_At his words, Dumbledore had lost his patience and stood up. "Silence!" Draco had stopped his rant and turned to watch the old man warily. "Is it not enough that we give you the opportunity of a lifetime- a reason to befriend the brightest witch of your age and learn from her- the chance to switch allegiance with no questions? Must you also insult some of our finest families, Mister Malfoy? Perhaps-" he paused in his tirade, "I was mistaken with out choice of you. Since you have already made the Vow, you may go if you wish. We will find someone else."_

It had only been at threat of losing such a perfect opportunity, as the old coot had put it, that Draco had grudgingly accepted the final offer. Still, the knowledge that it was Weasley's baby…it rankled. It seriously did, and not just because he hated the git and his entire family; but because it was insulting, to realize that Granger would have willingly slept with the idiot- even that she had wanted to, well. He supposed hormones were responsible for quite a lot at their ages. He watched her toss the last of her cookies and then wobble unsteadily to her feet. She glanced over at him once more, her gaze curious and a little disapproving, before she took a seat next to Ginny.

So, no hysterics either. That was also interesting. He turned his own gaze back to Dumbledore and waited patiently and disinterestedly for the old man to finish explaining things.

"So the three of you are ready? You have not changed you mind, Miss Granger?"

Hermione nodded solemnly and gripped Ginny's hand. Dumbledore eyed her pale face and finally stepped out from around his desk.

"Very well, then. Let us complete the exchange. I will perform the Vow with each one of you, excepting Mister Malfoy, as he made the Vow yesterday."

Hermione raised her eyebrows in surprise and couldn't help but sneak a glance in Draco's direction. She could hardly believe her ears; he had made the vow already, knowing that Ron was the father and was still here? He was still willing to go through with it? She bit her lower lip thoughtfully. Was it possible that Harry was right about him? It all _seemed_ a bit suspicious, but one could never tell…no, she had resolved to go easy on him this year. She would never be well pleased with him, certainly, but Draco had suffered some, _finally_, and that was enough punishment. Perhaps he had learned his lesson. It couldn't be easy, having one's father in a place like Azkaban.

Draco felt her watching him and resisted the urge to smirk. If he was going to do this properly- and the thought did make his stomach turn a bit- then he needed her to _trust_ him. Not just tolerate him, as she had seemed to do this far into the year, but actually trust him. Perhaps even _like_ him a little. So no smirking, unless appropriate and no leering, certainly. He could even stand to continue opening doors and allowing her the use of his handkerchiefs- those could be laundered, so it wasn't a problem. In fact, if he pretended she was a pureblood, he could probably even manage to be more than nice…only when necessary, of course.

Rather than smirk, he allowed a small smile to curve his mouth. He felt her eyes flicker away from him- he had startled her with that, had he? How interesting, indeed. He raised his eyes to the old wizard once again.

Ginny was making the Vow, her eyes fearful despite the defiant tilt of her head. Still, she cast one more look to her friend as she said the final words and then it was done. The tongues of flame burned brightly before they melted away, leaving the magic of the vow upon her person. She looked up to Dumbledore for reassurance.

"Well done, Miss Weasley. Thank you for your compliance and your courage. You may leave now, if you wish, unless Miss Granger would prefer you to stay."

Ginny didn't even bother looking at Hermione this time. "I'm staying until you kick me out," she said firmly before returning to her seat, head held high.

Hermione grasped her hand again as soon as she was seated. Ron replaced her in front of the headmaster and stuck his arm out, looking just a little red around the ears. He was either scared or still upset over Malfoy, Hermione decided. Then she dismissed the thought and went back to being frustrated and angry with him.

After Ron managed to stammer and sputter his way through the Vow, it was finally Hermione's turn. She stood up and walked slowly over to Dumbledore, taking the hand he offered with no hint of nerves or doubt. She knew- she _knew_- that this was the best course of action for the innocent life inside her. Perhaps not for herself or her friends, but for this child, yes. She was doing what was, if not exactly moral, extremely sensible in her current situation.

Professor McGonagall was the witch performing the Vow on them- Hermione could only assume it had been Snape in Draco's case. She wondered, briefly, if either professor would need to make the Vow as well before she decided that it didn't matter. Although Snape was not the nicest of men, both he and McGonagall were trustworthy- she was putting her life in their hands, wasn't she? That was sign enough that she trusted them; perhaps more than Harry or Ron, even. For although both boys had been her good friends since First Year, they were still only boys. Teenagers, not yet familiar with maturity and loyalty above all else. They were unknown elements in the equation of her future, though she would have given her life for either of them at any moment.

Well, for Harry, at least. She wasn't sure how she felt about Ron anymore. Something had changed after that encounter…and now this. No, she was certain she would never love Ron in the same way again. Her life was no longer hers- it was forfeit for the sake of the life growing inside her. No more selfish choices anymore…

Before she knew it, the Vow was over. She was almost ashamed of herself for going on autopilot through one of the most important moments in her life. And what if she had missed some part, some noose that would tighten because she accidentally said the wrong thing to the wrong person? She smiled sheepishly and made a note to ask Ginny about it later. Then she let go of the headmaster's hand and looked up at him.

"Thank you, Professor Dumbledore," she murmured.

He raised his eyebrows. "For what, dear girl? I have put you all in grave danger, despite this being the best course of action. Everything else is merely my job. Please, think nothing of it- and know that my office is open to you whenever you need me, as it is to your friends." He patted her on the shoulder and she smiled before leaning in and giving him a fast hug. He smiled awkwardly and then leaned down over her, returning the embrace. "And be sure to ask Mister Potter where I keep my best chocolates the next time you see him," he whispered. "For either I've misplaced them or he's eaten them all."

Hermione let a small laugh bubble from her lips and then sat down again. Ginny took her hand once more. They shared a smile before Snape stood to address the small group.

"Well, I believe we have some things to discuss with the happy couple before we let them go. If you lot don't mind, that is," he sneered, addressing Ginny and Ron. Ron spluttered a bit but kept his words and fists to himself as he stalked from the office. Ginny was a bit slower to leave and gave Hermione a lingering hug before she followed her brother from the room. Before she closed the door, she sent a scowl Draco's way and he watched her with a bemused expression on his face as she motioned with two pointed fingers from her eyes to his. The expression on her face elicited a chuckle from him and then the door slammed closed, leaving the three professors and two students entirely alone.

Draco turned his attention to Hermione as soon as the door was shut. The corners of his mouth quirked upwards again and he spoke before anyone else could.

"So, where shall I take you on our first date?"

Hermione looked at him strangely, ready to be angry with him for his facetiousness…until she felt the corners of her own mouth also curling up. The young Death Eater's flippancy in the moment was nearly irresistible especially after the seriousness of the last twenty four hours.

Dumbledore watched two of his most important students in silence as they smiled at one another from across the room. He nodded to himself, hopeful for the time being. Let McGonagall and Snape tear each other apart to protect their young wards. Whether it was desperation on Malfoy's or resignation on Granger's part didn't really matter much. The two would work cooperate now, for the sake of their own safety. Perhaps, once things were sorted out a bit more, he would worry about the actual relationship between these two. For now, he would breathe a sigh of relief and focus on Harry and the Horcruxes once again.


	4. Dust the Sill

**I do not own any part of the Harry Potter franchise; all rights belong to J.K. Rowling, Warner Bros and Scholastic. **

* * *

Hermione walked down the hallway at a moderate pace, Draco strolling along beside her. They had finally been allowed to leave the office, with the understanding that they would have regular meetings with the headmaster and their heads of house. If anyone asked, they could use the excuse of prefect business; and once the pregnancy was revealed, everyone would assume the meetings had been about their situation- correctly, of course. So there wasn't a problem to that aspect of things. The only problems Hermione really foresaw were how her friends, and specifically Harry, would take the news; and how she was going to manage Draco.

He seemed almost too eager to get to know her; to begin their faux relationship. She seriously questioned his motives…although it was nice to know that he was willing to do things properly and without complaining, no matter what his motives were. She glanced over at him again. His profile _was _rather handsome- she didn't think she had ever noticed before. And the way his eyes turned cloudy when he was thinking. She'd noticed that earlier in the office, when they were discussing their plan of attack. Many times it seemed as if he had gone off into his own world, although he had been right there with them, adding to the discussion, even.

He felt her watching him and again forced the smirk from his face. Instead, he turned his own head to look at her as well, raising an eyebrow. "Yes?" he murmured.

She flushed, but rather than look away, spoke to him. "Well, I was just wondering, if we're to start out with simple things like studying together, and maybe speaking outside of class, when you wanted to get started."

"Oh, as soon as possible," he replied, feigning surprise. "Don't you agree? People are never going to believe it if we only start showing signs of a relationship two months before the due date. We may attend school with several idiots, but the majority are at least of average intelligence."

"Oh, I agree," she responded quickly, facing forward again. He, too, turned forward once more, though he caught the blush along her cheeks.

They reached the doors to the great hall together and Hermione began to go inside to the breakfast table- not that she expected to eat. A sudden hand on her shoulder stopped her and she could feel all the eyes of the students before them turned towards her. She turned her head and Draco smiled at her.

"So I'll see you at seven tonight, in the library. Don't be late," he added threateningly, speaking in tones loud enough to be overheard by the students sitting near the door. Their heads snapped about to stare blatantly at the prefects and Draco grinned. "How's that for a start?" he asked, dropping his voice several decibels- practically whispering it in her ear. Then he did allow a smirk and sauntered off to the Slytherin table, leaving Hermione gaping after him.

The flush on her cheeks turned a brighter pink and she managed to collect herself and scurry off to her friends. Her stomach had begun fluttering and she frowned as she sat down amongst them and their questioning stares. It couldn't be- no, it had to be the morning sickness again. That was _all_. She shook her head free of the cobwebs and looked about herself. Harry's face was the first she saw and he looked disturbed. Well, considering the way he and Ron had been going on about Draco this year, that wasn't surprising.

"Yes, Harry?" she asked, self assured once more. Ron shot a dark look her way and she chose to ignore it.

"What did Malfoy have to say to you?"

"Um- well, promise you won't be upset, Harry. You know I can't stand it when you and _Ron_ act like such idiots."

Harry bristled a little, but nodded. "So? What has he done this time?"

"It's just that, Dumbledore wanted us to study together- apparently Draco's grades have been slipping a little and-"

"What? No, no way."

"Oh, fine! Believe it or not, if you want. I don't care. But we're both prefects and can be pretty much ordered to do whatever he wants. Ron, tell Harry- you know we have to keep our grades up!"

Ron was still staring at her darkly and he mumbled his assent before letting Lavender tug his attention away. Harry looked from Ron to Hermione doubtfully, but finally nodded.

"Alright. But be careful, Hermione. You know I don't trust him."

"Yes, yes, whatever you say, Harry."

She rolled her eyes as he went back to his breakfast and looked over at Ginny, who smiled at her. Then she summoned some hot tea and pretended to eat. She did her best to ignore all the other stares and eventually, the breakfast hour was over and she could get up and leave for her first class of the day: Defence.

* * *

It was with some trepidation that Hermione took her seat in the classroom, knowing that Snape was teaching it this year and knowing she had just seen him for a very revealing and embarrassing reason. Or was the appropriate word humiliating? She really wasn't sure she wanted to know.

As she sat down, she felt another student brush past her and looked up to find Draco taking a seat directly in front of her. She frowned a little. Was he going to be this much of a pest, really? Then again, she didn't know what needed to be done to convince the rest of the world that he was the father…she had so little experience, aside from Viktor and now, Ron. She allowed the frown to dissolve and shook her head instead.

Draco turned around in his seat and watched as she turned her attention to her book. He saw Harry walk down the aisle and take the seat next to her. The black haired boy glared at him.

"Is there a reason you're staring at Hermione, Malfoy?" he asked.

Draco's eyes widened innocently. "Just going to ask her a question, Potter. Or am I not allowed to speak to my fellow prefect?"

"Your tutor, don't you mean, Malfoy?"

At that, Draco drew back and laughed. "Was that supposed to be insulting, Potter? As if I would ever allow myself to be tutored by the likes of her. Perhaps I'm the one doing the tutoring, did you consider that?"

Hermione tried to ignore the argument going on right over her head, but found it difficult. Although Draco had warned her that in order to make things believable, he couldn't change his behavior towards her over night, the smirks and off color remarks still hurt. She was just as good as he was- so was Ron, so was Harry. Yet because of bloodlines and power and money, she and almost all her friends were either dirt or as good as- she believed the popular term was _blood traitors_. Hermione sighed and finally flipped her book shut.

"Would you two just stop it? Class is going to start any minute," she huffed, looking Draco directly in the eye. He raised an eyebrow and smirked.

"Alright, Granger. Sitting down, now. Please, oh, please, don't hit me again."

She rolled her eyes, but felt her mouth quirking into a smile of its own accord again. Harry looked from her to Draco and sat down, finally, shaking his head in either anger or wonder, he wasn't sure which. Had Hermione and Malfoy really just shared a…_moment_? How was that even possible? Perhaps, though, she had been right about leaving him alone. After all, she was spending more time with him as a prefect, and now with the study sessions, so she clearly knew him better than the rest of them did. He stared at his book as Snape started class, trying not to glare at the back of Malfoy's head. Whatever the reason for their cordiality, he still didn't trust the boy. He would leave Hermione's relationships up to her, however, because he _did _trust _her_, enough to know that if she truly shared his own distrust, she wouldn't be treating Malfoy the way she had just now. Almost as if she had been breaking up an argument between himself and Ron, or Seamus.

It was very odd, indeed, and only another reason for him to keep an extra eye on the young Malfoy.

* * *

The first two weeks of the charade brought them squarely to the middle of November and half a month's good work. Hermione's extra lessons had been going well, though they were keeping her very busy, and Draco had slowly begun increase the number of moments they spent together. The only downside to pretending to have a relationship with him was his idea of what constituted a secret affair. He would pull her out of her study sessions and prefect duties without any warning, only to drag her off to a broom closet or empty classroom- once even to the Slytherin common room on the pretence of a fight amongst First Years. It was doing the job, true, especially that time in the common room when they arrived to a half empty, quiet sitting room and Draco declared that the young scallywags must have escaped his wrath…then proceeded to force Hermione into a chair and wait with him to see if they came back.

It had all been very awkward and Hermione anticipated that it would only continue to be so, especially as she and Draco never _did _anything in the closets and classrooms except talk occasionally and spend the rest of the time looking at one another suspiciously. Well, she looked at him that way- he just eyed her like he was beginning to see why Ron had wanted to shag her. It was very disconcerting, and she put it down to his attempting to make some memories that would seem appropriate to their being lovers once they were questioned. The only problem with that idea was, well, they hadn't kissed or anything. The most that had happened was his grabbing her hand to drag her into the closets in the first place.

Not that she wanted to be kissing anyone right about now- she was still trying to get used to the idea of being pregnant and all, and kissing someone who wasn't the father of her teenage pregnancy seemed somehow inappropriate. So here she was, saddled with a baby that she wasn't even sure she wanted, but felt morally obligated to keep; an ex love interest who grew more jealous of her new, fake love interest everyday; and the fake love interest also happened to be her best friend's second worst enemy. It was like some ridiculous afternoon drama…on the Spanish language channel.

It was a Friday afternoon when she finally worked up the courage to talk to Madame Pomfrey about what was actually bothering her about the pregnancy. The woman was quick and could easily tell, almost as soon as Hermione started her private sessions, that the girl was bothered very much by something. At first she had assumed it was the father's identity and that something untoward had occurred to cause the pregnancy, but she dismissed that thought as soon as Hermione began speaking.

"I just don't…_feel_ like a mother," Hermione said, eyes wide and troubled. "I know that the thing- the baby- inside of me is mine, that I'm sustaining it. For Merlin's sake, I've been reading about pregnancy and the life cycle since the fourth grade! I know how it all works, well enough. But…I just don't feel connected to it in any way. The whole situation still feels so _unreal_. I'm worried, Madame Pomfrey, that I'm not fit to be a mother- this sort of thing can't be normal, can it?"

The nurse, who had sat close by and listened carefully to everything Hermione said, now stood and placed a hand upon her young ward's shoulder.

"Oh, my dear, what you're experiencing is perfectly normal. More normal than you'd probably expect. All the nonsense they feed young women these days about how romantic being a mother is and how, 'you'll feel _differently _about having children once they're your own.'" She paused and scoffed a little. "It's ridiculous. Motherhood isn't romantic, not at first, anyway, and some women _never _feel the kind of deep attachment to their children that all the magazines and books say is _normal_. Just because you're carrying the child doesn't make it yours. Not all adoptions happen because the parents can't care for the child. Sometimes they happen because the mother doesn't _want_ her child, period. I've even heard of cases where some women were never aware they were pregnant until they went into labor! Surely you're aware of situations like that one, yes?"

Hermione nodded and began to feel a little less panicked about the whole thing, though still overwhelmed. Madame Pomfrey continued. "And it isn't any wonder that you should be having such anxieties, now is it? After all, you only found out a few weeks ago that you are expecting. Never mind who the father is- you're probably worried about what will happen to the child, aren't you? I wouldn't be surprised, in fact, if in addition to you trying to come to terms with reality, you are subconsciously keeping yourself from growing attached to it."

The younger witch suddenly burst into tears and nodded again. "Yes, that's it-" she sniffed severely and kept wailing. "I just don't know what I'm to do! I've been reading and studying all I can, but there's only so much a book can tell you when it comes to bonding with the little thing inside yourself- I just feel so strange, all the time, and Ginny is wonderful and listens to me, but she doesn't know anything about babies; she's the youngest in her family! And Professor Mc-" _sniiiiiiif_, "Gonagall has never had children, so she doesn't know how to help, either…oh, Madame Pomfrey, I simply don't have any answers this time! I feel completely…" her eyes narrowed as she searched for a word, still raising a handkerchief to her now _very _runny nose. She finally looked to the nurse again, shrugging helplessly and finishing her sentence with what, to the healer witch, was an extremely discouraging word.

"Completely…_lost_."

At that word, Madame Pomfrey wrapped her arms about the dear, dear witch and heaved a great sigh. "What you need, my dear, is your own mother. Have you talked to your parents yet?"

When Hermione shook her head amidst stifled sobs, she felt herself grow angry. "Why, that won't do at all! Why on earth not? They should have been alerted right away!" She put Hermione from her and stared at her. "Well, my girl, we are going to do something about that right this instant. I will go speak to the headmaster on your behalf. I'm sure he'll see reason. In the meantime-" she let go and walked over to her small medical library and began scrounging around for a particular title. "Ah-ha," came her mutter finally and she returned to Hermione's side with the book and a fresh handkerchief. "Here you are. In the meantime, until we get it sorted out about your parents, this book will help. I didn't put it on your reading list because I wasn't aware we would need it, but I can see that I was mistaken. It has tips for young mothers on taking care of themselves and their unborn children's mental health; ways to bond with the child, etcetera. I think it will help you a great deal for now."

"How to bond with the child? Really? What does that entail?" Hermione asked, curious about this new skill set.

Pomfrey was bustling over at her desk and called over her shoulder. "Hmm? Oh, it's not much different from talking to a coma patient, I understand."

Hermione stifled a hysterical giggle and looked at the book in her hands. Well, she would try anything at this point to not feel like such a heel about the whole thing. Honestly, she was probably going to be the worst mother in the world! Not feeling like she was pregnant, not wondering about the child- what sex it would be, what to name it- she didn't care about any of those things right then. It was still too new. _Give it time, Hermione_, she told herself. Then she smirked. _After all, you have seven and a half more months to work on it_.


	5. Let In the Sun, Not Too Much

**I do not own Harry Potter at all and all money and rights belong to J.K. Rowling and friends.**

* * *

Dumbledore stood to face his very disgruntled nurse.

"Poppy, if we tell her parents now, then they will inevitably wish to know why we have yet to tell the Governors…they will have no end of questions as to how and why this has happened…"

"Albus," Minerva said gently, "Perhaps Poppy is right. It is inevitable that all said parties will find out eventually. Why not tell them sooner rather than later?"

"It is too soon," he murmured. "She and Mister Malfoy have barely had time to…"he eyed Poppy and cleared his throat. "_Adjust_ to the situation." What he meant to say was, _they've barely had time to create a false relationship, let alone get around to the bits that will convince everyone else of their verity. _

Minerva nodded in understanding, but held her ground nonetheless. "It is true, however, that Miss Granger has been quite distraught about the entire situation. She's having some difficulties adjusting to being a mother and the only person that can truly help her is her own mother. To be comfortable and feel secure with friends and family- these are the things she needs the most. If I were you, I would stop worrying about people finding out _too soon_ and start concerning myself with what's likely to happen if she doesn't solve her problem."

Poppy nodded gravely. "Yes, Headmaster. I'm most worried that she might do something drastic."

The old wizard's eyes opened a little wider and he looked from one witch to the other. "Is that so? Well, I suppose you're right, in that case. We had better move our plans forward by several weeks." He turned to Fawkes. "Go fetch Professor Snape and Mister Malfoy, please." Then he directed his attention to Minerva once again. "Are the new quarters prepared yet? You must see to it at once. And Poppy, please go to Miss Granger and tell her that I approve of your suggestion. Then send her in to see me."

Without another word, both witches left and he sat down at his desk. Fawkes looked at him disdainfully and he glared at the phoenix. Squawking noisily, the bird took off and flew out the window to do his bidding. It looked like he could please no one lately.

* * *

A few hours later, after many protestations and some rational arguments against it, Hermione sent an owl to her parents. The rational arguments came from Draco and the noisy protesting filtered out of Snape. Hermione simply sat through it all, confident that she would finally get to set some of the terms of the situation. Plus, she pointed out, no one except her parents needed to know about it _at the moment_. They could still wait a little before news got out to the School of Governors. And eventually, even though _a little _meant only a week, it convinced them. Dumbledore gave in and she was able to breathe freely.

She really hated keeping secrets this big from her family. Well, not that there wouldn't still be a rather large secret involved, but that was understandable and necessary. So, once she had gotten permission and some new instructions, she had taken off at once for her dormitory to write the letter. Draco had insisted on accompanying her, however. When she'd asked him why, he'd responded with, "Well, I am the father. I ought to include something, don't you agree?"

Smart ass.

So he had written a small note as well, to confirm Hermione's story and introduce himself, he'd said. Make a show of good intention. He'd even called it the honorable thing to do- before he sneered at a passing memory. She was certain he was thinking of how she'd gotten into the whole mess to begin with…if Ron had behaved in an honorable manner…but no, there was no point in thinking that way.

For now, she had a child she had to learn how to care about and a make believe lover who was all too real as he stood next to her in the owlery. He continued to watch her as the owl took off with the letter and she turned to look at him.

"What?" she asked, exasperated.

He blinked innocently at her. "Excuse me?"

"Why do you keep doing that when no one is watching?"

"I don't know what you mean," he replied, immediately drawing his eyes away from her. "Come on, let's get you in out of the cold."

She stiffened up as soon as his hand touched the small of her back and refused to budge. He tried to give her a gentle push, but she only glared. A smug look fell across his face.

"I hardly think zero degree weather is good for the baby," he murmured cajolingly.

"_That_ is what I mean!" she crowed.

"What?"

"That! This- _all_-" and here she gestured impatiently, "of it! Looking at me when no one is around to see, being sensitive and mindful…it's so unlike you! It's driving me crazy because, well, I'm hardly your love interest and on top of that you're being forced to claim a child you couldn't possibly want to keep or raise-"

At that, Draco grew about four more inches and towered over her. The face she had grown quite familiar with over the last five years- mean, prideful and snobbish- descended upon his features. "And how would you know what I want, Granger?" he asked coolly. "Let's get a few things straight while _no one is watching_, shall we? I am not here because I was _forced_. I _chose _this, you idiot. No one except the Dark Lord and _perhaps _my father could make me do something I don't want to do; and since my father is in Azkaban, put there by you and your _friends_, that leaves only the former, right? Do _you _think he would want me performing this charade? Now, as for whether or not this behavior is like myself…well, you have nothing to base my actions on except those directed towards you and your friends. You haven't seen into my life, Granger, and despite our connection in this little melodrama, I don't intend for you to find it out. So you can either trust me that what I do now is necessary and continue to experience my better self which, until recently, has been privy only to my mother, or we can blow this entire secret wide open and get ourselves killed in the process. Which do you prefer? And think very carefully, because if you choose the latter, you'll be committing murder, too. I _shudder_ to think what will happen to your poor, know-it-all, eternal soul."

Hermione couldn't help it. It seemed the entire encounter had happened so quickly and her heart was racing…she simply couldn't take it all in fast enough.

She burst into tears.

Draco watched her cry for only a second or two before he rolled his eyes and transfigured an extra piece of paper into a handkerchief. Between wiping her nose and daubing at her eyes, she tried to talk, or apologize, or something like it, at least. He would have snarled at her to shut it if he thought it would've helped, but he knew better. After about five minutes of incoherency, the sobs subsided and she looked up at him almost sheepishly.

"I've been doing this a lot lately," she muttered.

"I gathered that, Granger," he responded. "Now we really do need to get you inside. And I'll try not to stare at you so often anymore if that helps."

She allowed him to touch her this time and begin guiding her down the steps. "No," she sighed, "I don't care. I'll just have to learn to deal with it, I suppose, if we're to do this thing right."

He eyed her for a few silent moments before they came to the door into the school. "Speaking of which…well, I know I just said that I don't really want you in- er, in my life…"

"I know what you meant, Draco," Hermione glared at him. "For the record, I don't want you that way either. So let's just keep this as businesslike as possible."

"I suppose we will have to practice kissing every now and then for show, though," he pointed out.

"Say what you were going to say!" she exclaimed. He saw she was beginning to get excited again and rushed ahead, only too happy to avoid another crying spell.

"Well, if your parents are finding out and are getting an owl and everything…what better way to show my solidarity with you than inviting you to my home for the holiday?"

She stopped and stared at him. "You mean…"

Draco's normally confident countenance seemed beset by something…was it nervousness? Fear of rejection? Or was that distaste in having to ask a muggleborn into his home? Whatever it was, it made him look very vulnerable. Him? Having a muggleborn witch that he had (supposedly) gotten pregnant, in his home for the Christmas holiday when his father wasn't there, and after being raised to believe in pureblood superiority? It defied all boundaries and logic.

"At Malfoy Manor, yes," he managed to get out. "Er…with me and my mother hosting you." When she continued to stare in silence, he kept speaking. "You wouldn't need to stay for very long- perhaps only a few days- and you could have your own wing if you wanted. We'd never have to see each other, even…if that would be preferable."

"Um…alright," she murmured, still stunned.

He seemed equally shocked by her response. "What?"

"Well, I don't mind, I suppose. But let's wait until I hear back from my parents and, well, everything, until we decide. Is that okay?"

He nodded and pushed open the door to let her back into the school and its warmth. "That," he replied, "sounds like an excellent idea."

Neither of them realized that the student who brushed past them (a Second Year Hufflepuff) had been listening at the inside of the door before they had come through it. She turned around to look back at their retreating figures as the wooden door swung shut, one eyebrow quirked very, very high.

* * *

After Draco had dropped Hermione back off at the Fat Lady, he took his leave and headed down to the dungeons. Snape had requested that they meet after seeing one another in Dumbledore's office earlier. He walked into the man's office, taking off his coat before sitting down. As he waited, he took off his gloves and tried to warm his hands. It didn't help that it was probably going to be one of their coldest winters to date here in the highlands of Scotland; but living in the dungeons of a castle was a frigid business on occasion. He was just surprised that the weather had turned nasty so quickly. It made him moodier than he normally felt, contrary to the face he presented to Hermione and his professors. But his fellow Slytherins, those closest to him, felt his wrath strongly these days. Crabbe had suffered especially the other day for insinuating some unpleasantries about his mother and the Dark Lord. That in itself was unsettling…to know that his classmates, those who had followed him without question in his younger days, were now thinking for themselves- or perhaps the correct phrase was _listening to their parents_. He knew the other Death Eaters were saying awful things about his father, and all because the Dark Lord encouraged it.

Ah- there it was again. That little prickly feeling he had been getting an awful lot lately…it was bitterness and resentment directed not at Potter and his friends, but at the Dark Lord for putting his family in this situation to begin with. (Not that he wasn't still angry at Potter; he was- he just realized that it wasn't entirely the little black haired rat's fault.) It was insulting, it was humiliating…and none of them deserved it. _Or do we? Perhaps it's karma, for how we've treated muggles and muggleborns our whole lives…_

Either way, it didn't matter. Whether he blamed the Dark Lord, hated him, wanted him dead…none of that mattered because his father was in prison and _both_ his parents were going to die if he didn't do the foul man's bidding. Never mind that it was a nearly impossible task- which he had almost figured out how to do, thank you very much- he and his family would die without its completion. That was all there was to it. He sighed and placed a hand over his eyes, leaning his head back.

But…

What if he didn't do it? What if he _couldn't_ do it? What then? _Ah. Is that why you are ingratiating yourself with the old man and the girl, Draco? In case you are too weak to do the job? Are you hoping to secure a place with the Order and save your family and yourself?_

He shook his head and sat up again. He couldn't think of those things right now. He had to act. And if his real motives remained a mystery even to himself, well, that was okay. A relationship with Granger and Dumbledore would prove useful no matter which way the pendulum swung.

He might survive this ordeal, as long as he could keep the act up to both parties…

As long as that blasted Granger witch would stop staring at him uncertainly with those big brown eyes of hers. He smiled weakly to himself. Draco thought he could understand what a moron like Weasley would see in her: smart, pretty, a wonderfully dry sense of humor…she was everything that would look good and behave well on the arm of a pureblood wizard.

If only she wasn't a mud- _don't finish that thought, you cow_, he told himself. _If you're going to keep it up you have to stop calling her that. Not that she isn't one, but we must maintain appearances. _

He smirked and was about to prop his feet up on the edge of Snape's desk when the man appeared.

"I didn't invite you here so you could sully my furniture, Mister Malfoy," Severus intoned slowly, walking around his desk to take a seat as well.

Draco quickly brought his feet back down to the floor and rolled his eyes. "What for, then? We've sent the letter off to her parents, if you were wondering. They should have it later today- maybe tomorrow morning. What do you think they'll do when they get the news? They can't take the train, can they?"

"A car will probably be sent to meet them and escort them to the train," Snape began to explain before he remembered who he was talking to. "Draco, stop being impertinent. Now, I asked you down here to discuss your…project. How are things coming along?"

Draco absentmindedly twirled a strand of his hair about his index finger and sighed. "Well, Professor Snape," he began, "I just can't tell if she likes me or not…"

Snape fairly snarled and leapt to his feet. "Do you think this is all a joke, boy?"

The young man laughed and met him inch for inch over the desk. "If I thought it was a joke, I wouldn't be here now, discussing such ridiculous things with you, would I?" He smirked. "Be reasonable, Snape. You can't possibly expect me to share every waking moment of my day with you. I wouldn't be a very good Death Eater if I did."

Snape eyed him and finally shrugged before sitting down once more. "Fine, but sit down, will you? I have to give the old badger some sort of show of faith, don't I?"

Draco shook his head. "Can't. I have studying to do; especially if all you're going to do is ply me with those potions you so casually slip into my tea."

"I most certainly do not-"

"Save it, Snape. I don't trust you any more than you do me, so let's cut the niceties. You've given me an opportunity to get closer to my quarry; that is as far as our relationship extends at the moment."

"Will you be serious?" the older man asked, exasperated and quickly losing his patience for the little snot nosed standing before him. Merlin, and he thought Potter was bad.

Draco held back his sneer. "I am being serious, Snape. Perfectly so. What is it you're dying to know?"

"Are you having any success?"

"With which project?"

"Oh, for Merlin's- damn it, Draco! You know full well I mean both!"

The younger wizard smirked and sat down again. "As for the first, I refuse to talk about that. Progress is being made and that's all _you _need to know."

Snape raised an eyebrow. "Not that much, surely."

Draco leaned back in his seat once more, despite looking extremely uncomfortable for a brief moment. "That would make you happy, wouldn't it?"

"Draco, you have to let go of this foolish notion that I'm not here to help- all I want to do _is _help. Why else do you think I involved you in the current scandal?"

The boy snorted and propped his feet up on the edge of the man's desk. "Just like how you helped at the Department of Mysteries last Spring? Stop trying to feed me a lot of bollocks. And as for Hermione, leave that whole mess out of this. Neither of us is some toy to be played with like you adults constantly seem to think."

"You seem to be growing fond of her," Snape noted as he flung Draco's feet back to the floor.

For one rare moment, Draco seemed to open up. His eyes widened slightly in gentle surprise, the planes of his pointed face softened and a light dawned upon his features. He was lost in some memory so brief it would hardly have mattered to anyone else, but he smiled at its passing. Perhaps it was the innocently confused way she accepted him at the moment; perhaps it was the annoying way she had of turning the conversation back to their studies any time it drifted too close to talk of relationships, particularly theirs…or perhaps it was the way he had distracted her with a dirty joke last week that had sent waves of crimson rushing to her cheeks as she sat stiffly in the Slytherin common room.

"I don't know what you're talking about," he remarked, a smug, secretive look descending over his face.

"You never seem to, do you?" Snape replied. Draco didn't seem to catch the sarcasm in his voice, or else he didn't care.

"Am I free to go now, _Professor_?" he responded, sitting up again.

Before Snape even nodded, he was up and out of the chair, his strong, young body striding confidently across the room and out the door. And yet…though he carried himself just as well, though his shoulders were thrown back tall and proud…there was a small hunch to them, as if he could feel the weight of his tasks lowering themselves to his back one by one…and they were just now _beginning _to take their toll.

Snape waited for his steps to recede into the distance and then he waved a hand at the open door, shutting it. He had made a decision about his ward's future and turned to his fireplace thoughtfully. Then he stood and walked over to it, flinging a pinch of floo powder into the space.

"Malfoy Manor," he spoke.

The green flames flared up brightly and he stuck his head in. "Hello?" he called. "Narcissa? I must speak with you at once."


	6. Clouds Roll In

**I do not own Harry Potter or make money off this fic. All rights belong to J.K. Rowling and associates.**

* * *

Taking a deep breath, he blurted out the only words he could think of.

"You don't understand, Mother- I _love _her!"

Draco sighed and raked a hand through his hair before looking up at his reflection. "Well, that reeked. Augh! How am I supposed to convince my mother that I care about her?"

_Lie, like you always do. Like you do best. _He smirked and then grunted, turning on the tap. Splashing some cold water on his face, he reconsidered. It was only in front of Hermione that he would have say things like that, of course. In private he could lead his mother to believe the other truth- that he was only using her to get close to Potter and Dumbledore. Not that he even knew which lie he believed himself. Everything was starting to get rather confusing- between his attempts to assassinate the old man and convincing Hermione (how strange to think of her as _Hermione _and not _mudblood_) that he really was a nice guy…_you are a nice guy. To your mother. And occasionally Pansy. _He frowned and splashed some more water around before turning off the tap. _I'm never really nice to her or Crabbe and Goyle- more like I tolerate them. Which is sufficient. But as for Hermione…_

Things just weren't going the way he thought they would, that was all. She still didn't seem to really trust him (although he knew full well that was perfectly normal- he had been abusing her the last five years, after all), but besides that, she kept making googly eyes at the dumb red head. He was going to have to put a stop to that. No matter how well Snape said her lessons were going, she would never convince half the Death Eaters he knew, let alone the Dark Lord, that she and himself had been cavorting in empty closets.

Draco sighed and rubbed at his eyes before grabbing a nearby towel and drying his face. Then he ran a hand through his hair, made another face, and headed out the door. There was no point in feeling sorry for himself. If there was a job to be done, it was better to face it now than wait and have the entire thing blow up in their mutual faces- although that would probably take care of Dumbledore for him. He smirked as he walked down the hall.

It was almost dinner time, wasn't it? Perhaps it was time for another public display of power.

* * *

Hermione hadn't been feeling well since that afternoon. She'd taken the rest of the day off (again, ugh) and had sequestered herself in her favorite study corner of the library. Ginny had joined her for study hall and the two had been passing notes ever since, give or take a half hour here and there when Hermione felt the need to retch. She was decidedly out of sorts…and pregnant, to boot. It was extremely uncomfortable and she wasn't even out of the first trimester.

How annoying.

_How are things with Malfoy?_

Hermione read the latest note from Ginny and rolled her eyes. The girl was positively playing matchmaker, she could swear.

_Bothersome_, she responded.

Ginny stuck out her tongue and made a lewd gesture.

_Not that kind of bothersome, _Hermione added. _He, well_…her hand stopped moving and her thoughts trailed off the page. How could she describe the current state of affairs? Draco wasn't making her do anything she didn't want to- other than spending time with him to begin with, and she could hardly fault him for that. She was supposed to be madly in love with him, after all. And he was being as nice as possible without actually acting like a friend, or even an acquaintance. The act was going as far as setting rumors in motion and nothing else. It almost bugged her, that, though for reasons she could hardly fathom at the moment. She frowned and started to say as much to Ginny when she felt a tap on her shoulder. She looked up, nonchalantly covering the paper with her arm and sliding it out of the way. Ginny glanced up at the intruder as well and smiled brightly.

"Hullo, Harry. What's up?"

Harry brushed a lock of his ever unruly hair from his eyes and looked to both girls, smiling comfortably in return. "Nothing much. Studying? You've been missing an awful lot of classes, Hermione. Slughorn is starting to worry." He pushed some of the books on the table aside and took a seat next to them. "Not that I mind. I'm number one in Potions, now," he added slyly.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Only because you're cheating. And anyway, I just haven't been feeling well."

"What's wrong?" he asked, brow furrowed. He looked to Ginny for answer, as Hermione could only blush and look away.

Ginny shrugged and shook her head. "I dunno. I think it might be catching, though. Maybe you should go- we've got that Quidditch game coming up on Saturday."

"Like you're not playing in it too," Harry returned, grumbling a bit, but he stood up anyhow. Hermione sighed and tugged at her messy ponytail.

"It's just womanly troubles, Harry. Don't worry about, okay? I'll catch up all my schoolwork. I always do."

Harry's face turned a slow pink and he hemmed for a bit before nodding and heading off towards another section of the library. "Oh- well, that makes sense, I suppose." He suddenly couldn't meet Ginny's eyes and dashed away after securing a dinner date with them both.

Ginny stared after him. "What on earth was that?"

Hermione snickered. "He's being a boy, Ginny. And I'm fairly certain that means he noticed that if he asked anymore questions he'd be talking about the female physiology around a girl who is making him increasingly uncomfortable."

Ginny's mouth made a little _o_ shape and then she smiled, a predatory look upon her face. "I _see_," she murmured.

Hermione was rather sure that she _did_ see just then, and was glad of it, because it suddenly took all the pressure off of herself and Draco and the mess she was in. She turned back to her books, relieved. She really didn't want to discuss her feelings- or lack thereof- or any other sort of _emotional_ issues she might be having. They were a bother to think about and even more of a bother to pretend to have in the first place. It would be useless to even try and sort them out at the moment, so she didn't see any reason to try.

Madame Pomfrey had been very helpful so far, of course, but even she didn't really know how to help. So, she was stuck studying the books she had been given and hoping for the best. And now…now, she was going to have to talk to her parents about things, without telling them the truth, and while she was happy to be allowed to speak to her mother, she wasn't entirely certain that was going to help much, either. If she couldn't tell her mother everything, what was the point of trying to discuss it?

Hmmph. It was all most distressing.

Her stomach growled and she looked down, embarrassed. Ginny glanced up from her work again. "What, dinner already?"

Hermione laughed. "I guess it is for me and-" she paused awkwardly. She was trying out a recommendation from the last book she'd gotten, about building up a bond with the…with _her_ child. Ginny looked at her questioningly, waiting for her to finish the sentence.

"For _us_," she finished lamely, gesturing towards her still flat belly. Ginny watched her sympathetically.

"You don't have to do that, you know," she whispered. "_Try _so hard, I mean."

Hermione shook her head. "If I don't learn how to love this thing, who will? Besides, it's my responsibility. Even Draco has been surprisingly-" she stopped again.

"What? Do you mean he's actually being _nice _about it and not just trying to bugger you?"

"Well, yeah." She fidgeted in her seat some and then began putting her books away. "We have to build up some memories of a real relationship. Otherwise it's never going to work. That's what he says, at least. And Snape is seconding him."

Ginny frowned and then shrugged before speaking seriously. For all her mirth and lewd remarks, Ginny had as low an opinion of the Malfoys as anyone, if not more. "Well, as long as you don't mind…I believe that idiot is capable of a convincing performance. After all, we all thought for years he was just a harmless bastard. Now it turns out he's actually taken-" she stopped suddenly as well as Harry moved over to their table once more.

"You ready for dinner?" he asked. He gave no indication he'd heard their conversation.

Hermione smiled. "Harry, you've barely been in here fifteen minutes!"

"So? We all know I'm not a scholar. Besides, I can study after practice- but if I want to make practice I have to get to dinner early. So…are you ready?"

Ginny and Hermione shared one last glance before nodding and standing. Ginny winked at her friend and then started out the library ahead of Harry and Hermione. Harry watched her walking and Hermione poked him in the side.

"What?" he asked, startled.

"Nothing," she responded before stepping ahead to join the red haired witch, "perv."


	7. Storm Clouds, In Fact, Big Ones

**I do not own Harry Potter or make any money off this fic. All rights belong to J.K. Rowling and associates.**

* * *

Dinner that evening was a disaster. Draco had fully intended to speak with her after the meal; to show off his hold over her just a teensy bit in order to advance the rumors further. It would have worked out splendidly if an evening express post hadn't arrived. There were exactly four letters in it- two went to the headmaster. The other two went to Draco and Hermione, respectively.

Hermione's face displayed some surprise, but she lifted the letter carefully and saw that it was from her parents. Her friends stared at her oddly as she turned it over and over in her hands, unwilling to open it in such mixed company. They hadn't intended for everyone to find out for another week, at least. Unfortunately, a dozen questions were tossed in her direction. It was unusual for an evening post to arrive, let alone with actual mail for students.

"Who's that from, Hermione?"

"Oh, what's that?"

"How lucky! My parents never send anything express," another student whined.

"Are you going to open it?" Harry asked. Hermione began to shake her head, but Ginny snatched the letter from her hands.

Hermione panicked. "Ginny!" she exclaimed, the blood draining from her face.

"Hmm, what on earth could your parents want that couldn't wait until tomorrow?" Ginny murmured mischievously.

Hermione looked at her, eyes wide and confused. Her friend knew perfectly well what was in that letter- she'd told Ginny everything, after all. The girl was her complete confidant in the entire escapade.

Ginny winked at her. "Let's just find out, shall we?" she stage whispered, before making a show of opening the letter. Hermione realized what she was doing and lunged at her melodramatically. The other girl was saving her from opening it in public. If they pretended to have a chase, it would get them and the letter out of the hall. Ginny laughed and scooted away from her, standing up and waving the letter above her head. Hermione stood as well.

"Ginny, give me back my letter," she frowned at the other witch.

"Oh, it must be something very important indeed," the red haired girl giggled before turning and dashing away towards the entry of the great hall. Hermione made a show of glaring and calling after her before she shrugged apologetically at a confused Harry and took off after her friend.

Harry looked over to where an ashen faced Ron was sitting, ignoring his girlfriend. "Any idea what that was about, mate?" he asked him.

Ron seemed to come to and shook his head elaborately. "N-no, I have no idea. Sorry, Harry. You know Ginny, though…" He cleared his throat uncomfortably.

Harry turned away and nodded, staring in the direction of where his two female friends had disappeared out into the corridor. "Yeah…not as well as I'd like to, though," he murmured before shaking his head and turning his attention back to the study schedule Hermione had given him. Was it just him, or had those two gotten even stranger and more reclusive than he'd thought they were these past few weeks? For a moment he even wondered if…no, it wasn't possible. Hermione didn't swing that way, did she? And he hoped to Merlin that Ginny didn't. Still, that would be interesting to see, wouldn't it?

He practically choked on his pumpkin juice when Ron addressed him again. "Ready for Quidditch practice, mate?"

"Er," Harry responded, hoping his face wasn't too flushed. "Yeah. Let's get out of here," he murmured, tossing his things in his bag and following the entity of Ron and Lavender. Unfortunately, the sight of their intertwined hands and arms only brought the image of his two favorite witches back to mind. He groaned. This was going to be a very long Quidditch practice, he could tell.

* * *

Across the hall, as Ginny was just tearing the letter from Hermione's hands, Draco was staring in consternation and distress at his own mail, addressed from his mother to himself. It wasn't so much that it was from his mother that surprised him- he had been rather quiet towards her lately- but the _kind _of mail it was that left such a red stain upon his cheeks.

It was a howler.

His mother _never _sent him howlers. He didn't think he'd ever received one before in his life, actually. From _anybody, _let alone his _mother_. Pansy and his fellow Slytherins were all staring down the table at him in silent horror. They knew, as well as he did, that whatever had caused his mother to send this letter, it must be very, very bad _indeed_. With a resolute sigh and a firm toss of his shoulders to settle his fears, he opened it. There was no escaping a howler, after all. He knew that as well as anyone.

He missed the look of horror on Professor Snape's face when the man realized what had happened. He apparently didn't know Narcissa as well as he thought he did.

And then, the entire hall went silent as her strong, angry voice filtered out over the Slytherin's heads.

"_DRACO MALFOY!" _she began. "_OF ALL THE DESPICABLE, DESPISABLE THINGS TO DO THIS YEAR- A MUDBLOOD? PREGNANT? DID YOU THINK WITH YOUR FATHER IN PRISON THAT YOU COULD DO WHATEVER YOU LIKED THIS YEAR, THAT YOU COULD TURN YOUR BACK ON THE WAY WE RAISED YOU WITHOUT ANY FEAR OF REPURCUSSION? WHAT WOULD YOUR FATHER SAY? THE SHAME YOU HAVE BROUGHT UPON YOUR HOUSES AND YOUR FAMILY NAME IS UNBELIEVABLE- HOW COULD YOU, DRACO? DON'T YOU DARE THINK ABOUT COMING HOME FOR THE HOLIDAYS THIS YEAR UNTIL YOU ARE READY TO APOLOGIZE FOR YOUR FILTHY, SCHEMING ACTIONS! I CANNOT BELIEVE ANY SON OF MINE WOULD BEHAVE IN SUCH A DISGRACEFUL MANNER! FYE ON YOU, DRACO! FOR SHAME! OH, WOULD THAT I HAD SENT YOU TO DURMSTRANG INSTEAD- THIS WOULD NEVER HAVE HAPPENED- I BLAME MYSELF, SON. BUT DO NOT THINK THAT MAKES ME ANY LESS DISAPPOINTED IN YOU! SHAME! SHAME ON THE HOUSE OF BLACK, THE HOUSE OF MALFOY! WOULD THAT I WERE DEAD BEFORE I SAW SUCH A DAY! IF YOU DON'T WRITE BACK AT ONCE ASSURING ME OF YOUR UTTER AND SINCERE APOLOGY, I SHALL COME TO HOGWARTS MYSELF TO DEAL WITH THIS TART, HERMIONE GRANGER! DO YOU HEAR ME? IS THIS WHAT YOU WANTED, DRACO, TO BREAK YOUR POOR, SUFFERING MOTHER'S HEART WHILE YOUR FATHER WASTES INJURIOUSLY IN AZKABAN? SHAME!"_

The letter finally seemed to wear itself out and then ripped itself to shreds. Draco could tell his mother had wanted to say more, but it just would've all been the same, so she clearly didn't see the point. He wondered that she had bothered to send the howler in the first place. Another part of him, of course, was extremely hurt by her response. He wondered briefly how on earth she had found out- he should have been able to ease her into the information, feed her the story he wanted to. Now his hand was forced. And for what? His protection? His own good? He didn't believe that for a second. Trying not to let her words sting him too much, he glanced up to Snape's place and saw the ashen face. So. That was how she'd found out. He suddenly felt he'd like to kill the man.

Draco noticed that silence still reigned over the hall and he looked up and down the table at all the shocked faces of his housemates. He smiled apologetically and cleared his throat delicately.

"Hmm. Sorry about that scene, everybody. I'm afraid Mother isn't feeling quite herself since Father was locked away."

One of his companions began to say something rude and another smacked him upside the head, stopping his remark. Draco raised an eyebrow in the offending boy's direction and spoke softly.

"What was that, Kischel?"

"Er, nothing, sir," the boy murmured before bounding up and away from the table as quickly as his short legs would carry him. Draco looked about himself again.

"Anything else, or shall we save the questions for later?" he asked, waving a hand dismissively. When no one spoke, he smiled tightly. "Good. Now, if you'll excuse me-"

He stood up and was about to leave the hall when a voice called across the space to him. All heads in the dining hall turned to watch the exchange.

* * *

Harry never thought he'd be so angry. He'd been about to leave after Ron when the commotion over at the Slytherin table began. And when he'd realized it was Malfoy getting reamed, well. He'd stopped to listen, just like everyone else.

Now, with rage boiling in his blood and steam coming out his ears, he called out to the other boy. He felt insane with anger over the accusations Narcissa Malfoy had flung about. That was his _best friend_ the bitch was talking about, after all.

"Malfoy! Your mother needs to learn how to shut her lying trap!" he yelled.

Draco turned to stare at Harry, an incredulous expression on his face. He could feel the Slytherins behind him trembling with excitement.

"And your mother needs to learn how to watch her back!" he began, before allowing a smug grin to fall over his face. "Oh, wait- it's too bloody late for that."

Harry saw red. He threw down his bag of gear and was about to tear across the hall to strangle Malfoy when he felt Ron's hand on his shoulder.

"Come on, mate. It's all lies. We all know the Malfoys are nothing but a bunch of Death Eating scum. Leave it."

Harry shook off his friend's hand and stared ahead. "You heard what the bitch was saying about Hermione," he pleaded.

Ron shook his head. "Hermione can look out for herself," he remarked, trying to keep the conversation light.

Draco strode a little closer to the pair. "And, Potter- my mother may be many things, but she _never _tells lies."

The implication of his statement, the honesty in his eyes and the mocking grin upon his face all made Harry's anger bubble to the surface once again. This time, though, it was Ron who stepped forward. Unbeknownst to Harry, Ron had been itching to take his anger at feeling so impotent and useless out on Draco for a few weeks now; the knowledge that the best thing he could have done for his unborn child was to hand it over to a Death Eater ate at his insides like nothing else.

"Please, ferret, your mother wouldn't know the truth if she took Veritaserum."

"Are you calling her a liar, Weasel?" Draco sneered, full aware of what Ron's game was. So, the moron thought he could jump into the picture and start defending his would be girlfriend's honor _after _getting her pregnant and abandoning her? Despicable. Not even a Slytherin would do that.

"And a bitch, Malfoy. Get used to it."

Draco's hand twitched towards the pocket he held his wand in when professors suddenly descended upon the scene.

"That's enough, _boys_," came Snape's sniveling voice. "As much as it pains me to stop all three of you from killing one another, I would be held the negligent party in this case and I am not ready for Azkaban…yet. Now, if you'll please put away your wounded egos and leave separately and quietly before I'm forced to give you all detentions. In my classroom. At the same time." When the boys didn't move, he sighed. "For the remainder of the school year."

At that, they reluctantly stopped glaring at one another and turned away. Ron and Harry left first, casting nasty glances behind them the whole way out. Draco attempted to leave after them, but Snape caught him by his collar and shook his head.

"You and I," he murmured, "need to speak."

Draco snarled at him and removed himself from the older wizard's grasp. "I believe we do, yes," he replied, before preceding his professor from the great hall.

The minute the two of were gone, the entire hall erupted into sound once again.


	8. Thunder and Lightning

**I do not own Harry Potter or make money off this fic. All rights to J.K. Rowling.**

**AN: To my lovely reviewers- thank you. And to one in particular: you are so right and I should just quit while I'm ahead, right? Too bad there are already sixteen chapters of this thing written. Seems a waste to not finish it now. **

* * *

Draco walked ahead of Snape down the hallways and opened the door of his professor's office before moving inside to take a seat. He crossed his arms and waited. He hadn't spoken to Snape since the man had forced him from the great hall and he didn't much feel like talking now, except to perhaps cuff the man a good one.

Severus followed him inside and shut the door quietly, gazing over at his pupil strangely.

"I won't apologize, if that's what you want," he spoke to Draco reprovingly. "I had no idea-"

"That my mother would effectively tip off the entire school to the situation? Is that what you were going to say? Because if it's not, I don't need to hear it." Draco leaned forward in his seat and glowered at the other man. "I don't think you realize just how delicate this situation is- she doesn't even trust me yet! Now I'm going to have to start at the bottom with her and work twice as fast, no thanks to your big mouth. And Mother?" He groaned and sat back again, staring moodily into a corner. "What the bloody hell am I supposed to tell her _now_?"

Snape had the good grace to look a little bit sorry before he replied. "Narcissa will…understand."

Draco looked up and glared. "You heard the howler just like everyone else- how will that translate to understanding?"

The older wizard cleared his throat and looked away, tenting his fingers together delicately. "Er," he responded.

Draco's eyebrows rose. "You- you _planned _that? Together?" When Snape said nothing, he laughed and his shoulders visibly relaxed. "Well, well. That changes quite a bit, doesn't it? I suppose it makes sense for things to happen this way. It gives her an element of protection. And the shock in her voice was real enough. Let me guess- you simply weren't expecting her to announce it in quite that fashion."

Snape snorted. "That, or she is a better actress than I thought and _is _genuinely upset at the turn of events."

"But you didn't tell her everything."

"Of course not," Severus replied, rising from his chair. "Now, you'd better get up to the headmaster's office- I'll contact Minerva and see if she's found Miss Granger yet. We'll have to have an emergency meeting about this evening's spectacle." The wizard stopped Draco before he left his office, one hand on the boy's shoulder. "Do you think you can salvage your budding relationship with the girl?"

Draco shook off his hand easily and smirked. "Well, it won't be simple, but knowing that this stunt with Mother was planned puts a different outlook on things. Don't worry about me, Snape. I can manage- you should know that."

With that, he was out the door. Severus stared after him a moment before picking up some powder to floo Minerva as promised, schooling his features into unconcerned passivity once more.

* * *

Ron caught up to Ginny and Hermione just before he headed out to the Quidditch pitch. He left Lavender at a watering fountain and jogged up to them quickly.

Ginny watched her brother, one eyebrow crooked upwards in a suspicious expression. "Yes, Ron?" she sighed.

Hermione looked up from her letter guiltily and met his eyes as he looked from one to the other. She noticed the concerned look on his face, the flush of red from his cheeks to the tips of his ears and stood up, shoving the letter into a pocket.

"What is it?" she asked, suddenly very worried. She noticed Harry moving up behind Ron a few meters away and lowered her voice. "Spit it out, Ron, Harry's coming!"

"Er-" he lowered his voice as well and leaned in, "the cat is out of the bag?"

"What is that supposed to mean?" Hermione was confused.

"Which cat, Ron?" Ginny hissed. "The Malfoy cat or the Weasley cat?"

"Malfoy-" he began to respond, his anger rising to match Ginny's indifference.

"Hermione!" Harry called out, overtaking the small group. "You will not believe what Malfoy's bloody _mother _just said about you and that arse!"

The trio turned to welcome Harry's presence, trying not to look too guilty. Hermione stepped forward.

"Ron was just saying something about it- can you tell me what happened? Whatever it was, it can't have been that bad-"

Harry rolled his eyes. "Would you stop defending the prat? His mother- Merlin, I'm so angry I could really kill him this time!"

Ginny frowned and looked at Hermione significantly. "Well, whatever it is will have to wait unless you two can get your tongues untied," she snapped. "We have practice in less than five minutes."

Harry fumed a bit and Ron found his voice again. He turned back to Hermione, the look on his face apologetic, but no less upset. "What Harry is _trying _to say is that the woman sent the ferret a howler- he opened it shortly after you'd left. She made some awful accusations against you, Hermione," he finished just as Lavender waltzed up to them.

The blond witch leaned into the conversation. "Oh my God, yes," she muttered. "Malfoy's mum accused him of getting you _preggers, _can you _believe _it? Where in hell would she get _that _idea from? Sounds completely _mental_!"

At the sound of her sniggering laugh, Harry cast a sympathetic glance at Hermione and then spun away, heading back out towards the field. He raised a hand in farewell and shouted over his shoulder at them. "I can't take this right now- I'm going to warm up!"

Hermione watched him go, a sad look on her face. Lavender tugged on Ron's arm and he unwillingly let her lead him away in the direction of the pitch as well. "I'll see you later! We'll talk then-" he called as he was dragged away.

When they were both gone, Ginny looked at Hermione, watching her friend carefully. "Well, your mum doesn't sound as angry as you thought she might be, at least. That's something, right?" When her friend didn't answer right away, she took her hand.

"Will you be okay on your own for a bit, Hermione? Perhaps you'd better go see Professor McGonagall to check on this new story."

Hermione nodded and squeezed Ginny's hand tightly. "I'll be fine. It's not like we didn't expect this to get all over, anyhow. I just didn't expect it to be so…"

"Soon, Miss Granger?" came an authoritative voice from behind them. The girls spun about to see Minerva McGonagall standing over them. "Neither did we, but it's happened. We're going to have a small chat with Headmaster Dumbledore about it now, hmm?" She looked pointedly at Ginny. "Don't you have somewhere to be, Miss Weasley? While your concern for your friend is most admirable, I would hate for our house's chances at the Quidditch Cup to be ruined by your preoccupation with matters that have nothing to do with you."

Ginny arched a brow at her professor and didn't mince words as she replied. "I'm glad you find my concern so admirable, Professor. But while I take my position on the team seriously, the situation Hermione is in hardly has _nothing _to do with me, don't you think?" Then she smiled sweetly and flounced off towards the field, though not before giving Hermione a hug and whispering that she would meet her after practice.

The other witch finally turned to McGonagall and smiled. "So we're to have another meeting?"

Minerva raised an eyebrow and turned away, holding a hand out in front of her. "If you please, Miss Granger. By the way, I've taken the liberty of having your set of rooms prepared for you already and we can have the house elves move your things as soon as you wish. Preferably before curfew tonight, as your being settled in separate rooms before we get a flurry of mail from distressed parents will help a great deal in the negotiations with the Governors."

Hermione made a small scoffing noise. "Professor," she said firmly, "I hardly think that having the house elves move my things will do anybody any good. Besides, there's not much to move. I can get Ginny to help me carry my trunk- possibly even Draco."

Minerva gave her a tight lipped smile. "Ah, how could I forget- you direct S.P.E.W. Well, if they will help you, then you'd better get on it as soon as this meeting is taken care of. Now, up you go, my dear." She followed Hermione up the stairs to the headmaster's office and shut the door behind them.

* * *

Draco and Snape were already there, settled into chairs. When he saw her, Draco jumped from his seat, a guilty look upon his face, and offered his chair to her. She smiled at him tentatively.

"Thank you- you know, I'm not upset with you, Draco," she murmured hesitantly. I know you wouldn't have told your mother without discussing it with me. Besides, whatever awful things she said about me, I didn't hear them. I was out of the hall, chasing down Ginny."

Draco looked as if he actually sighed with relief and then he knelt beside her chair, lowering his voice. "I'm so glad you believe it wasn't me- Mother is furious, though. I'll have to write her immediately."

"Should I include a letter myself, do you think?" she asked him, eager to help. After all, though she wasn't aware of his reasons, this arrangement was their mutual best shot at surviving the war intact. Hermione wanted it to work out, no matter how distasteful some of the arising situations might be.

Draco shook his head. "No, that would probably only have the opposite effect-" he was cut off by the entry of Dumbledore.

"Well?" Albus asked the quartet. "What has been done so far?"

"Why don't you ask these two?" Draco asked him, nodding in the direction of their professors. "They're the ones who are managing our lives so well."

Minerva scowled at him and stepped forward. "Hermione has received word from her parents, as have you, Albus. She'll be moving to her new quarters tonight, presumably with the help of Mister Malfoy, here."

"Me? Why don't the house elves-" Draco stopped as he caught Snape's eyes rolling. "Oh," he muttered, then let out a small laugh. "_Spew_."

"No, not _spew_-" Hermione began, but Dumbledore waved a hand and interrupted her.

"Never mind, Miss Granger. While your work with the house elves is most admirable, it is not the topic of our brief meeting this evening. Now, Severus?" he asked the other wizard.

Snape smiled mildly. "Draco will be in touch with his mother shortly. Miss Granger's parents, Minerva, are arriving for a conference when, tomorrow?"

"Two in the afternoon."

"And Mrs. Malfoy will arrive in time for it, although I'm sure you will want to speak to both parties separately. And, having received letters from the parents which neither myself or Minerva has been privy to, I think that is the extent of our knowledge and only the beginning of yours. Are you going to share with us, Albus?" he asked quietly.

"No," the wizened man replied steadily, "as the missive I received from Narcissa Malfoy was a howler, the same as young Draco's. As for the Grangers, they are anxious about their daughter's health and safety and her father, I imagine, wishes to behead her deflowerer. However, I know nothing beyond these few things. Can either Draco or Hermione enlighten us?"

When both pupils shook their heads, he clapped his hands together. "Well, splendid. So it begins. I trust you will find your new living quarters satisfactory, Miss Granger. Mister Malfoy, if you run into too much trouble with your own house, let me know and we will arrange for separate quarters for you as well. That is all. Good night, everyone!" he finished cheerily waving his hands at them and waiting for them to vacate his office.

Draco and Hermione stared at their respective house heads for some reassurance that things would be alright, eventually. When none came, they made their way from the office to the staircase and down it, walking together dejectedly.

"That was encouraging," Draco remarked lightly. Hermione snorted.

"And I'm good at Divination," she replied, earning a small smile from her companion and fellow conspirator.

"So," he stared, looked over to her, "what's this about me helping you move your trunk?"

She blushed and looked at the floor. "Oh, well. I don't want the house elves doing a job I can easily do myself. It would go against my principals, wouldn't it?"

"Are you asking me or telling me, Granger?"

"Telling you, I suppose," she replied evenly. "So are you up for it? I would have asked Ginny, but she's at practice right now. And by the time she gets back she'll be too worn out to move anything anywhere, I imagine."

"So I'm the obvious choice."

"Well," Hermione responded, looking over to him, "you did get me pregnant, after all. The least you could do is carry my luggage."

He smirked. "Like you don't know several perfectly good levitation spells."

"It would be nice to have a bit of company, though," she said quietly. "I've only ever been surrounded by my classmates and other members of my house. It will be strange to live alone in this place."

He glanced at her strangely. "Does it frighten you?"

She paused in her movement and chewed on her lips a little before starting forward again. "You know, I think it does, a little. For some of the students- like Harry- it's their true home. They love this place as though it's the only spot they've ever truly belonged. For me, I've never felt I really belonged."

Draco started to make noises of pat disapproval, but she waved a hand. "Don't bother trying to console me, Draco." She lifted her eyes to his in a look of resignation. "Regardless of what you think of me now or what your motives are, you've always been on the side that makes me feel out of place and you know it. I don't need your mollycoddling. I've never needed it; there's always been someone to make me feel welcome and a part of things. I know I'm a brilliant witch and good at my classes, but when it comes down to it, it's my friends that I belong with, never really Hogwarts…though I do love this place. I guess…maybe I'm just scared of the change. There've been so many in such a short period of time…"

Draco nodded as he listened. Yes, he understood what she meant- every word of it. "So perhaps living on your own may simply take some getting used to?"

She smiled at him, glad he understood. "Yes, I think that's it." She stopped suddenly and he looked up, surprised. Were they really at Gryffindor Tower already? Why on earth had he followed her so far? He wasn't really going to help her with her move, was he?

"Well, here we are," she muttered. She turned to him. "If you don't want to help or be hounded with multiple questions, you'd better leave now. People will think it's strange enough that you walked me to the portrait without sneering once."

He carefully arranged his face into a look of utter disdain and distaste. "Will this do?" he asked. _Yes_, he told himself, _apparently you are going to help her. And furthermore, _the voice in his head continued, _I think you empathize with her- you _like _her. _He told himself to shut it and the sneer on face deepened.

She tried to hide her grin and shook her head. "Why don't you wait here for me and make rude remarks to the Fat Lady? That ought to confuse people some more." With that, she quickly spoke the password and dashed into the Gryffindor common room.

He sighed and turned around to lean against the wall, ready to wait. Why _had_ he stayed? There was no need; Hermione could manage perfectly well on her own. So for what? A bit of company? _Perhaps to be invited into her new single abode for a nightcap? _He smirked to himself and was aware of the portrait next to him sizing him up.

"So you and the bright, pretty one, eh?" she asked him, ogling him openly. He looked over at her, and was suddenly very uncomfortable. He didn't think a portrait had ever undressed him with her eyes before. It was most unsettling.

What did one say to a portrait other than bugger off? "That's right," he managed to reply smoothly.

The Fat Lady's eyes went wide. "Ooooh, uuuummmm," she murmured lewdly. He glared at her.

"If you like, I can get Sirius Black in here for you," he responded. The Fat Lady shrieked and dove behind a tree. Apparently no one had told her that Black was dead. He grinned and leant against the wall once again, hoping that no one of note passed by. While it was all well and good to spread rumors, it wasn't good to be caught unprepared. And whatever had happened tonight, regardless of the best laid plans of witches and wizards, regardless of how he may or may not feel about Hermione, they were most certainly _not_ prepared for it.

_No one expects the Dark Lord's return! _he thought to himself, amused. Just then, there was a massive clunking sound against the portrait and the Fat Lady continued to shudder and moan behind her tree.

"Is it him? Have you brought him already?" she hissed before she swung open to reveal a large, dark green trunk.

Draco eyed Hermione over the top of the floating luggage and raised one eyebrow. "Green? I was somehow expecting red and gold."

She frowned and her face grew pink as she pushed the trunk out of the entry way and shut the portrait behind her. The Fat Lady shrieked again and she turned to look at her with alarm before pushing the trunk past Draco.

"I _like _green," she muttered to him as she walked by. "Loads of people like the color green- it doesn't mean _anything_." When he didn't respond, simply walked alongside her, smirking, she rolled her eyes. "Whatever it is you're thinking, I don't want to know! It can't be much worse than what half the school thinks of me already and I have already had sex on school grounds and gotten myself pregnant, so I really don't think you can come up with much worse."

"Not even that you're a closet Slytherin?"

She frowned. "I'm sure that's what everybody thinks already, with all the chats in broom closets we've been having lately."

Draco looked up thoughtfully. "That's very true. Still, with a trunk this color-"

"Oh, stuff it!" she growled at him. "Now are you actually going to help me or do I have to do everything myself?"

He sneered at her again for good measure, but did tug his wand from his pocket and began directing the floating trunk.

That evening, a very few eyes were privy to the sight of Draco Malfoy and Hermione Granger making their way through a seldom used part of the castle, directing a trunk of belongings ahead of themselves.

The group of Hufflepuffs that were so fortunate to see them dissolved into whispers as the duo passed.

"I told you! Melanie said herself that she saw them just today-"

"I know! And you were at dinner, you heard that howler, too…"

When Draco cast an arch glance in their direction, they immediately stood up straight and were quiet. Hermione frowned at him.

"You're only making it worse!" she murmured in low tones. She was torn between her responsibility to the thing inside her and her desire for privacy.

Draco glanced down at her and gave her the largest, most predatory smile he could manage. The Hufflepuff girls behind them burst into giggles and more rushed whispers.

"My dear Granger," he replied, "isn't that the point?"

At that, all Hermione could do was stare straight ahead and ignore the fact that she was swiftly becoming the talk of the entire school…and that it was probably going to lose her a friendship with Harry and also cause Ron to implode.

Not that Ron's implosion was a bad idea, all around. And with that thought, she smiled up at Draco in return. "You know," she responded, tucking an arm under his, "I think you may be right."


	9. Rain Falls

**I do not own Harry Potter or make any money off this fic. All rights to J.K. Rowling, Scholastic, Warner Bros, whomever.**

* * *

Hermione pulled out the directions Professor McGonagall had given her and looked at them for a moment before glancing up at the staircase before them. She turned to Draco and shrugged.

"This is it," she murmured, before waving her own wand and taking over direction of the trunk.

Draco looked about them and then back at her. "I've never been in this part of the castle, have you?" he asked her. "I think I'd better come up with you. Are you certain this staircase leads straight to your door? How do you know it doesn't head down another hall?"

She shook her head and showed him the parchment. "See? It's sort of like the Headmaster's, or a head of house, only without the gargoyles and moving staircases. Makes sense, doesn't it? I doubt they have an entire wing with single rooms on it anywhere in this place."

"I wouldn't put anything past them," Draco argued. "Besides, I thought you'd read that history book about a dozen times."

"I have," she muttered. "But it doesn't say anything about living quarters for single parents, now, does it?"

"How should I know?" he shot back. "I've never read it."

She rolled her eyes and started up the stairs. "I can see I'm not going to get rid of you unless I let you follow me up to make sure there aren't any monsters under the bed."

Draco smirked and crossed his arms. "Call it whatever you like, Granger."

At that she stamped her foot and glared at him before continuing up the narrow circular staircase. When they reached the top, her trunk bumping along behind them ungracefully, she consulted the parchment again before pulling out an ancient key and inserting it in the lock. Carefully, she pulled the door open and peered inside. Draco tried to peer around her, but all he saw was the flurry of her robes before he heard a shout of delight.

"Why- it's lovely!" she exclaimed. He followed her up tentatively and guided her trunk in before he stepped inside.

His eyes were immediately assaulted with Gyffindor colors and he cringed. "Sure, lovely- like your own private Gryffindor dorm room, if you like that sort of thing."

She tossed him a smile and pulled the trunk farther into the room. "You won't spoil my mood, Draco…although, we really do need to talk about what happened at dinner, don't we?"

He raised an eyebrow in her direction and then took a seat on the nearby chaise, taking in his surroundings as she unpacked.

The door- a small oak panel that looked about three hundred years old- still hung slightly ajar and he waved his wand carelessly at it, sending it shut with a quiet _whump_. Hermione jumped some and looked over the top of her trunk, which was now on the floor.

"Oh- you shut the door. Er, thanks," she muttered, before delving back into her luggage's hidden recesses.

Draco allowed himself a smile and then got back to scrutinizing the room they were in. It was middling sized, with not-quite-a-room off to one side of the window. The bed was situated in this alcove- a somewhat larger model than those in their dorm rooms- and a small nightstand was nestled in beside it. Beyond the bed, on the far wall of the alcove, another door led to a small bathroom. The chaise he was seated on stood opposite the bed's space and was angled just away from the window so as not to catch any drafts, although there were already two sets of drapes lining that wall to block the chill. Across from the wall with the window was the fireplace and on the wall adjoining it stood a bookshelf and desk- similar to what one might find in a common room. The wardrobe also shared that wall and in the center of the room stood a round table with two high-backed chairs on either side. It was a cozy space, but large enough that a baby crib could easily be set up…he shook his head.

Nonsense. The child wouldn't be due before the year was out, would it? He counted in his head and looked at the top of Hermione's bushy head thoughtfully. When she glanced up at him again, he looked away quickly.

"So will you be alright?"

She gave him another small smile. "Of course. I'm not completely helpless, as you pointed out earlier."

Draco snorted. "Right, of course- how could I forget? You and your friends tackled half a dozen Death Eaters last summer and lived to tell the tale."

Hermione listened closely for any sign of bitterness or recrimination, but couldn't hear any. Ginny was probably right- he was one hell of an actor. They'd been partially responsible for his father ending up in Azkaban, after all…although that wasn't really their fault at all. If Lucius Malfoy had made better choices he never would have been put in that position.

Draco seemed to sense the direction her thoughts were taking and stood up. "No point in me staying any longer, then. And stop thinking those nasty thoughts about my father- it's not his fault he was raised by an elitist, power-hungry old man."

"But it is his fault that he went along with all of it," she responded evenly. She heard Draco stop his movements and waited for an angry response. She had, she realized, been waiting for just such an argument from the moment they'd been assigned this ridiculous charade. Perhaps it was unfair of her, but his kindness, his laid back manner all rubbed her the wrong way. It was unusual, to say the least; to say the most it was creepy. She knew, logically, that it made more sense for him to be so obliging in a situation like this one, but it weirded her out, frankly. Things had changed so quickly, between all these new and strange lessons and Draco hovering about her _constantly_, well. She needed some semblance of normalcy in order to survive, didn't she? And right now the only things that were normal in her life were her friendships with Ginny and Harry and the way she fought with pig headed, pureblood elitist, Voldemort followers like Draco Malfoy.

She looked up at him with anticipation of his next, preferably heated, remark. Instead she found him observing her coolly. His eyes seemed to bore into her and she could do nothing but listen to his mocking words.

"You want to fight, Granger? Too bad. I won't discuss the past sins of my family with anybody, let alone _you_. Not when we're doing each other a rather large mutual favor. I like things the way they are right now and, while I'm not really sorry that you're in this predicament, I have no desire to place anymore stress than necessary on those fragile shoulders of yours. I know you well enough, Hermione Granger, to know that you aren't as strong as you pretend to be."

She felt her eyes widen and tears of helpless anger pool in them as he watched her impassively. How dare he look into her that way? With a growl, she managed to thrust him from her head before she sat back on her heels, somewhat dazed.

"You had no right-" she began, but he cut her off.

"You think the Death Eaters are going to ask your permission before they invade you? What in Merlin's name has Snape even been teaching you? I'll have a word with him before I go back to the dorm, if you like."

"How can you stand there so collected after being such an-"

"Ah-ah, Granger. Don't say anything you'll regret. Now, do you think I should escort you to breakfast tomorrow?"

She glared at him and began hauling things from her trunk again. "No. But didn't you want to discuss this evening's events?"

Draco smirked to hide the apology that had been about to leave his lips. "Do you really want me to stay that badly?"

He just managed to make it out the door before a book flew in his direction. Hermione stayed where she was on the floor of her new home, surrounded by books and articles of clothing. She knew- she _knew_- that Draco meant well, somewhere inside that miserable well of a human being he was…didn't he? Confused, she yanked a few more things from the trunk. No, she hadn't really wanted him to stay after that horrid exchange. She couldn't believe he had actually used Legilimens on her…it was excruciating, to know that she had so far to go in her studies that even a low level one could penetrate the barriers Snape was helping her build…

It was also humiliating, wasn't it, for Draco to know that she felt comfortable enough around him that she let down her guard so far that all it took on his part was one look…but wasn't that the point of this whole escapade? For them to build a real relationship? How could he take advantage of that trust by just _spying _on her that way? And not even apologize? It was despicable. Maybe Harry was right and she should stop defending him.

But…there was something honest about him too, wasn't there? It wasn't all just an act- it couldn't be. Hermione, though she knew she was still a bit naïve about some things, had always considered herself a decent judge of character. And even though she knew he was a Death Eater already, though he'd always been cruel to herself and those she cared about before…well, some of the kindness she'd seen in him the last two weeks was real, wasn't it? She'd be willing to stake her N.E.W.T. scores on it. It went beyond all reason, of course, which was what Harry and Ron would be telling her, but Ron's word wasn't worth so much anymore and Harry had always been a bit of a hothead. Ginny, at least, didn't seem to mind so much, but she couldn't tell if that was because her friend actually thought Draco was alright or because she wanted to hear all the juicy details when they finally kissed and, er, other things. If there even needed to be other things.

For heaven's sake, they hadn't even gotten around to doing the first bit yet, let alone anything else. That fact was confusing in itself- that while he was the one pushing their relationship and rumors of it forward, he had yet to approach her or do more than whisper lewd things in her ear during class or touch her shoulders…and hair. She put a hand up to the frizzy mess self-consciously and resolved once more to learn a few good de-frizzing spells or potions. It couldn't be pleasant for him, touching a rat's nest like hers…she caught herself at the thought and rolled her eyes. What was wrong with her? The boy had just violated her and she was worrying about _his_ discomfort? Perhaps those hormones she'd read about were kicking in. Causing unexpected feelings and mood swings concerning wankers without scruples.

"Thanks a lot," she said aloud, glaring at her belly. When nothing happened she rolled her eyes again. _Merlin, I hope it's not a boy. Boys only know how to cause trouble, not fix it._

She huffed about a bit and put some books away. Well. If she wanted to avoid situations like this in the future, she would just have to be on her guard all the time. That would fit into the scenario, surely- nobody could expect, with the father of her baby being a Death Eater, for her to be happy and carefree all the time. Surely.

* * *

Outside her door, Draco paused to catch his thoughts and slow his racing heart. What was that? He hadn't meant to use Legilimens on her- it was a complete accident. But she had looked up at him and was so open, her eyes so honest that he almost couldn't help falling into them…the way he'd wished he could just moments before it had happened. Who wouldn't want those pools of warm brown chocolate looking at him, laughing with him, adoring him? Weasley was a sodding bloke, that's what he was. Oh, certainly, he knew it was safer (according to Dumbledore, the old bat) for him to claim her baby, but what man in his right mind would give up custody and rights of his child by _that _witch? And then go straight back to that Brown twat? It was beyond his reason. Sure, she might not be a pureblood, but her genes would make a fine addition to any wizarding family.

_Genes_? Who was he kidding? He was afraid his interest was beginning to have nothing to do with her genes and everything to do with the curve of her hips in her school skirt and the way her hair kinked about his fingers when he ran them through it. Merlin, what was wrong with him? This was a job- a business proposition, plain and simple. He was supposed to be using her to get to Dumbledore. _Unless of course the plan has changed_, the voice in his head murmured. He snarled at it, but the voice didn't shut up. _Of course it has changed- didn't you realize? Or were you too busy wondering how best to get both hands in that head of hair?_

Ah. So that was how things were. And now he was stuck with Snape on one side and Granger on the other and the Dark Lord ready to kill his parents at a moment's notice. He was treading a very dangerous line now. More dangerous than he thought he could handle. Kill an old man, sure- easy. Who couldn't do that? But _pretend _to be plotting to kill an old man while setting up an actual trap to do so and warning him at the same time that he tried to woo Hermione and convince her of his true intentions…that was another matter entirely. This was all going to blow up in his face- and now he had to start all over with the girl, as predicted, although not for the reason he'd thought.

He shivered and turned back to the small door. He'd wanted to apologize, he'd wanted to talk with her about his mother's howler…he'd wanted to defend his image to her. It was startling to realize how trusting and naïve she truly was. How could she be so innocent after everything she'd suffered and encountered? And why should he care what she thought of him, beyond that it was an alright chance to take to preserve her child's life? Why was he starting to care? He lifted a hand as if to knock on the door, then dropped it again.

What was the use? She was thoroughly upset now and it was best to leave it until tomorrow. If he truly had a problem with it later he could always send her an owl, or drag her out to talk after breakfast tomorrow. He suddenly wondered how the pregnancy was going. She was looking a little thin, wasn't she? He knew that morning sickness was giving her some trouble, especially as it seemed to be showing up at all different hours of the day. Well, then. He'd let her rest tonight. They could talk tomorrow, if she felt like it.

As for himself, he knew he needed to speak with someone about the predicament he'd gotten himself into…but it could wait until tomorrow too, couldn't it? He needed sleep and his schemes wouldn't solve themselves. Neither would those grades of his. So, desperately trying to fool himself into thinking that things were alright for the time being, he made his way down the stairs and into the corridors that would take him to the dungeons.


	10. Just a Drizzle, After All

**I do not own Harry Potter or make any money off this fic. All rights to J.K. Rowling and co.**

* * *

An hour or two after Draco had left, Hermione heard a buzzing noise. She looked up from the book she was reading- all her belongings had been sorted and put away already- and glanced around her new quarters. Where was the noise coming from? It buzzed again, whatever it was, more insistently and she stood up, putting the book aside, and walked over to the door. There on the wall by the entry was a small box. It was a call box, she realized and she pressed the button on it. A magical call box. McGonagall had really thought of everything, hadn't she? Now Hermione could screen her visitors before they ever made it up the staircase. How nice. She turned her attention back to the box and spoke.

"Who is it?"

"Ginny," came her friend's voice. Hermione smiled and pressed the release button, allowing her friend to pass through the ward across the stairway's entrance. A moment later, there was a tentative knock on her door and she let the girl through- though she was quickly followed by her brother. Hermione frowned at him and looked back at Ginny.

"Ginny, what is this?"

The other girl rolled her eyes and shrugged. "He followed me. You don't have to let him in."

Hermione sighed and waved him through anyway. "You're here now," she muttered. Ron gave her a frown of his own and stalked into the room, taking a seat on the chaise Draco had vacated an hour before. They eyed one another stiffly before Ginny cleared her throat, drawing Hermione's attention away. She was sitting at the small table in the center.

"This is nice," she remarked. "Cozy. Do you like it? Did you have any trouble moving in?"

Hermione raised an eyebrow and took the seat across from her. "So you're here for gossip."

Ginny laughed. "No, I'm here to make sure you're alright. Ron is here for gossip and being a general twat."

Ron seemed to sulk a little at that, but he held his tongue for once. Hermione looked over at him before returning to Ginny.

"I'm alright. Draco was really nice about it, I guess…" Her voice trailed off and Ginny caught the hesitancy in her friend's tone.

"Something happened," she stated.

Ron bristled and jumped to his feet. "I'll kill him," he growled. "What did he do, Hermione? Just tell me and you won't have to deal with it anymore-"

"It's not like that, Ron!" Hermione exclaimed, standing as well. "Sit down, will you? Gods, why can't you just act like a normal, rational person for once? This is all very, very hard for me, you know!"

Ron sat.

"It's okay, Hermione- Ron didn't mean it," Ginny placated her friend, casting fiery glances at her brother. "I'm sure Malfoy didn't mean to upset you, either." She looked at her friend thoughtfully. "This can't be easy for him, either."

Hermione sat back down. "I know. It's just that we were talking and then he was reading my mind, all of a sudden. It was really uncomfortable. I mean, he may have just been trying to get to know me better, but we can't forget he's a Death Eater. He might also be using this situation to get information. I don't know him well enough to say yet. What do you think?" she asked, looking up at Ginny.

Ginny looked thoughtful for several seconds before responding. "Why don't you talk to him about it? He didn't perform the spell or anything, did he? How do you know it wasn't accidental? What you're going through right now may make you especially vulnerable to those sorts of accidents. And you have been getting closer to him…"

Hermione shifted in her seat and rested her head against the back. "But I'm not, really. It's frustrating, but with every three things he learns about me, I seem to learn only one about him. I don't know anything- not his favorite color, or food, or where he spent summers before coming to Hogwarts…or where he spends summers _now_. Yeah, he's always dragging me off to broom closets, but it's not like anything _happens _in them. Mostly he tells bad jokes and I blush a lot. I feel like we're twelve instead of sixteen."

Both girls had been ignoring Ron completely throughout the entire exchange, but he reminded them of his presence with a snort.

Ginny turned to look at him. "Oh, are you going to add something valuable to the conversation?"

"Yeah, I am," he responded, his ire rising. He looked over at Hermione, who was still pretending to ignore him and his face softened. "Hermione, that's what blokes do when they like a girl- embarrass them, try to make them blush. We do all the wrong things- never the things like send flowers or tell her she looks pretty. We're complete idiots."

"I'll say," added Ginny with a snort of her own.

Ron cast a glare at her and she smiled back. "Anyway, it sounds like Malfoy does like you. I think he's trying to get to know you better before he exposes himself. He's probably terrified of you, secretly. Of what you could do to him if you don't like him back."

Ginny watched her brother carefully as he finished. What a touching display of maturity. When had Ron learned to control himself and speak in whole sentences that way? _He must really regret losing Hermione this way. _

Hermione finally looked over at him and voiced Ginny's questions. "Why are you being so nice about this? I thought you hated this whole situation."

Ron looked away, his face turning a bright red. "I'm really, really sorry for what happened. For the way I treated you. And, uh, I think you deserve someone who can take care of you and our child. I can't do that right now. But I don't want you to think you've only got him to rely on, either." He looked up at her, his face determined. "We've been friends for a long time and I don't want anything- my stupidity, or even _Malfoy_- to get in the way of it. So even if you can't forgive me right now, I want to help. Besides, the kid's going to need uncle's right?"

Hermione stared at him quietly, blinking back the tears that had risen to her eyes. She brushed them away and then reached out a hand to Ron. He took it gladly.

"Thank you, Ron. Thanks so much. I really want us to stay friends, too."

Watching them, Ginny could tell that Hermione wasn't really over Ron yet. That was why she'd acquiesced so quickly. Her heart still ached for Ginny's older brother- and when he could have such heartfelt moments like this one, Ginny didn't blame her. But Ron…she knew he wanted to stay in Hermione's life, but what was this ploy? She didn't believe for a second that he intended to remain _just friends_ with Hermione. If anything, he was probably betting that the ruse with Draco wouldn't last and then he could step in where he'd left off. Ginny narrowed her eyes. Over her dead body. Ron wasn't going to worm his way back into the space Hermione was keeping warm for him if _she _had anything to say about it.

"Harry really needs solidarity amongst his friends, too, doesn't he?" she spoke up, breaking the moment between the older students.

Hermione wiped at her eyes again, releasing Ron's hand. "You're completely right, Ginny. So, for Harry's sake, then- a truce?" she asked, looking to Ron.

Ron's face had turned red again and he looked ever so slightly uncomfortable. Ginny smiled smugly at him as he reluctantly answered.

"For Harry."

* * *

Draco didn't know where to turn. He'd thought about it all night, and the best he could come up with was that he should just go speak to Dumbledore, himself. He couldn't talk to Snape about switching sides- he had no idea where the man's loyalties lay. He couldn't talk to some other professor, because there was no telling who he could trust. Most people who saw his mark would run screaming in the opposite direction. And Hermione? He certainly couldn't go to her after his behavior last night. She'd never believe him. She'd probably just laugh in his face.

So, that left Dumbledore. What better person to go to than the one wizard your old boss was afraid of, the one you were, in fact, supposed to kill? After all, he couldn't try to work as a double agent if the head of the Order didn't know he wanted to work as a spy. Besides, he was fairly certain that Snape had already spilled the beans to the old man anyway, so what did he have to lose?

His life.

His family's life.

Other than that, there was nothing. He smiled grimly and reached for his towel. Well, now that he had that sorted out, it was time to get up and face the day.

* * *

Snape was in the headmaster's office, waiting for the meeting with the Grangers to begin. He'd offered to stand in on Draco's behalf during the so-called parent-teacher conference. Draco would be able to speak for himself soon enough, anyhow- although from Dumbledore's story, it sounded as if he already had. The two of them were standing face to face in the office, waiting for the other parties to arrive.

Snape was trying very hard not to look furious while Dumbledore was smiling serenely at him.

"So he's decided to change sides and he came to you for help? And confessed everything?"

"Nearly everything, yes," Albus returned complacently. He held up his dish of candy. "Lemon drop?"

"Not now!" Severus snarled. "I find it very difficult to believe he would arrive at the conclusion to become a double agent without consulting me, or all on his own!"

"So you'll have one later?" the headmaster asked mildly before popping one of the said candies into his mouth.

Severus frowned and turned away, huffing his displeasure. Dumbledore eyed him a moment before taking a seat behind his own desk.

"Come now, Severus. Why do you find it so hard to believe of him? Didn't you do the same thing?"

Snape's expression softened and he nodded reluctantly. "But that's not the point-"

"The point is that he's on the verge of doing what we hoped he would. He doesn't trust you, which is understandable, and so he came to me. It makes a great deal of sense, actually. Furthermore, I am the one who can promise him safety. The only downside is that he will have to keep making attempts on my life throughout the year to try and convince Voldemort."

Snape frowned again. "This is exactly what I don't like about this idea- why not remove him and the Granger girl from school now, put him and his mother in hiding-"

"That won't do, Severus. You know how suspicious that would look. Things must continue as they are. I hope that your lessons with Miss Granger are going well, because she will have to know about his change of heart eventually. Not yet, but soon, I imagine. He will find it increasingly difficult to keep such things from her."

"What do you mean?" The younger man's face went more pale than normal. "Does he care for her, then? I can't get anything from him, though I suspected as much. Albus, this is very, very dangerous," he finished in a harsh whisper.

Dumbledore could only nod silently in agreement before he waved a hand to quiet the other man as Minerva entered the office with the Grangers in tow.

The muggle parents didn't look quite as out of place as Snape had expected them to, but they did look just as upset. Still, handshakes were exchanged as cordially as possible all around before they all sat to discuss the situation.

"Do you have any questions?" Albus asked them, smiling kindly.

The husband and wife exchanged a glance before the woman spoke. "I understand she's been moved to her own quarters. Is sufficiently safe for her to live on her own?"

"Perfectly safe," Minerva hastened to assure them. "I saw to her security myself. Full warding spells, along with a call box to identify visitors and she even has a proper key and deadbolt system. Our caretaker handled it and he is the height of propriety, I assure you."

Snape bit his tongue to keep from laughing. Filch? Propriety? Well, the man did have a stiff nose for trouble in the halls. Perhaps McGonagall wasn't so far off the mark. He sniffed and the father turned towards him.

"And you vouch for the young man, aside from his already distasteful behavior?" the man asked stiffly, outrage hovering somewhere behind his eyes. His wife poked him in the side.

"Dear, he did write us that lovely note, apologizing. And he comes from outstanding heritage, Hermione assured us."

Snape turned an eye on them. "I can assure you his intentions are good. And yes, his pedigree is superb."

"I don't care how much money he has or who his family is!" the father practically shouted. At his wife's insistent tugging on his sleeve, he seemed to calm down a bit. "I swear Hermione's mentioned his name before when she's home on holidays and it's _never _been associated with something good."

"Young women these days do seem to like the bad boys, darling," his wife replied softly.

"These days?" he returned, staring at her with a knowing glance. Both parties flushed and the professors seemed at a loss for words.

"His mother will be here any moment for a conference of her own, if you would like to speak with her," Albus finally suggested. Minerva looked at him with wide eyes. She hardly thought that was a good idea, but she also wasn't in on the secret that Snape had given her as much of the low down as he could without killing himself.

"I'll go fetch her," the DADA teacher murmured nicely before he swept from the room.

There was an uncomfortable silence for a moment before Mrs. Granger began to speak again. "Well, from what I understand, Hermione's mind is made up and she wants to stay in school. You've told us that it will come before a board…is there anything we can do to help?"

"I still think it would be better if she came home," grumbled Mr. Granger.

"Darling, you know there are elements at work here that we know nothing about. I'm sure the headmaster is right and it's safest for her here," his wife responded quietly. He grunted in return and Albus cut in smoothly.

"If you don't mind, you could write a letter explaining your family situation as muggles- I'm sure that would help them decide in her favor. After all, with two magical parents the likelihood that the child will be magical is great. And in such a case, it is best if she is kept somewhere close to our community, in case of complications," he finished, still smiling.

"Complications?" started Mr. Granger again, just when the door opened with Snape and Mrs. Malfoy.

Everyone stood, handshakes exchanged again and they situated themselves once more. The three parents seemed to be sizing one another up during the interim while Dumbledore made the introductions.

Narcissa eyed the Grangers as she carefully removed her hat and gloves, patting her coiffure to make sure it was in place. She addressed Hermione's father first.

"I think it only fair that you know I am as pleased about this as you are. No mother wants to hear that her son has been foolish enough to get a young girl pregnant. That said, Hermione seems like a delightful girl and her brains will be a good addition to our family. I don't know if he plans on asking her to marry him, but he has made it clear to me that he doesn't intend ot shirk his duty as a father." Her eyes narrowed a bit and Mr. Granger bristled a little.

"What do you mean about her brains and your family and all that rubbish? What is this, the Victorian era?"

Snape leaned forward. "Mr. Granger, magical abilities are a relatively rare gift in the world today. Wizarding families give blood and genes as much value as your scientists and geneticists do in the muggle world. It's not as distasteful to speak of in our world."

Minerva sniffed. "Speak for yourself," she muttered.

Albus raised his hands. "Now, now. I'm sure she doesn't mean to speak of your daughter as though she were a horse."

Narcissa made big, googly eyes at the couple and shook her head. "Oh goodness, no. I'm so sorry if I offended you. I only meant that she does well in school, seems to respect the world we live in- that was all. Any mother would want a decent young woman for her son, wouldn't she?" she asked, batting her eyes and appealing to both parents.

Mrs. Granger melted immediately. "Of course, I understand. And your son does seem to be doing the honorable thing. You must be very proud. Not many young men from our side of the pond would stick around, would they, dear?" she asked, nudging her husband. He grunted.

"Er, no, you're right about that, dear. Well, if there's anything else we can help with, please don't hesitate to tell us, Headmaster," he offered.

The meeting was over fairly quickly and then the Grangers found themselves being escorted to the medical wing, where they would meet up with their daughter.

Narcissa and Snape stayed behind to speak with the headmaster separately. Narcissa leveled a glance at Albus.

"Now, about my son," she growled. "What is this nonsense he's told me about switching sides?"

Snape gave a violent start and Dumbledore's eyes continued to twinkle. "Pardon me, Severus," he murmured. "Did I forget to mention that in addition to myself, he told one other person?"

* * *

Draco hummed on his way to the headmaster's office. The day had gone fairly well so far, although Hermione had been avoiding him (perfectly understandable, though he'd catch up with her later); and he was eager to speak his mother and the old man at the same time about his plans. He'd forgotten that he was able to trust one other person in all this. His mum would never, ever rat him out- of that he was _quite _certain.


	11. But No Rainbow, Yet

**Don't own it or make money from it. All rights to J.K. Rowling and her associates.**

* * *

Hermione looked from her mother to her father and back again. Her parents had been lovely to her since they'd come, although she suspected that had been mostly her mother's doing. Her father appeared to have been elbowed several times. Still, there's been no talk of them being disappointed in her, or upset- she'd even tried to ask her mother once and both her parents had immediately brushed it off. Well, perhaps they were in denial. She still felt that she was, at times.

"So you're getting everything you need, darling? Vitamins, classes, literature?"

Hermione nodded again. "Yes, Mum, I am. Madame Pomfrey has been very helpful. She even helped me create a diet plan that I can use at every meal. And she loaned me several books, although the ones you've brought me will be a big help."

Mrs. Granger hugged her daughter again and sighed. "I understand your wanting to stay in school- it's not so unusual, even in our 'muggle' world, but I want you to know that you're welcome to come home for a visit any time you like. And we'll have you for Christmas, too, so that will be nice, won't it?"

"Er," replied Hermione.

Her father raised an eyebrow. "What does that mean? You're not planning on staying here, are you? So you can be near that boy?"

Another elbow met his gut and he rolled his eyes. Hermione bit back a grin.

"No, Dad, nothing like that…but, well, he did invite me to spend a few days with him at his family home over the holiday- not for Christmas itself, or anything, but he thought it might be good for me to spend some time with his mother, too…" her voice trailed off as she watched the two of them nervously.

Her mother seemed very open to the idea. "Of course, darling. That seems like it would be alright. We met her at the conference, you know, and she seemed like a lovely woman."

"A bit prickly," grunted her father. Hermione hid her smile behind a cough and nodded.

"Well, his family is a little stiff. They're very old wizarding blood, so it's to be expected." Hermione delicately left out the bit about them being stuck-up, pompous, self-absorbed wankers.

"Yes, that's what that Professor Snape said," her mother murmured. "Still, I don't see why you shouldn't. We'll need the contact information for his home, in that case. Would you go straight there and then come home?"

"I don't know yet. I suppose I'll have to ask Draco later." _If I ever see him_, she grumbled to herself. _I know I've been the one avoiding him, but you'd think he could be a little more persistent once in a while. After all, this is supposed to be our baby, isn't it?_

Another elbow hit her father and he grumbled a bit. "Speaking of diets and meeting up with your-" another elbow- "_fellow_, your mother and I wondered if you'd like to invite him and his mother to dinner with us. The headmaster gave us permission to take you down to that little village for a while this evening."

Hermione looked from one parent to the other, unsure of how she should respond. Clearly, her mother loved the idea, her father hated it and Draco? Narcissa Malfoy? How would they react? Never mind that, as much as she loved her parents, Draco would find some way to humiliate her later on in private because of it. She bit back her immediate desire to say no and choked out a weak yes.

"Sure, Mum," she replied, "that would be _great_."

_

* * *

_Narcissa stared at Severus as he regained his color. She turned back to Dumbledore and crossed her arms. "What do you mean, he didn't know?"

"Your son seems to have trouble trusting our Severus," he replied calmly. "Lemon drop?"

"Thank you," she murmured and took one of the candies. "But I don't see why he wouldn't- I've trusted him with my son's life, after all."

"As I have trusted him with my own," responded the headmaster. He gave Narcissa a thoughtful glance. "How much do you know?"

"About Severus betraying the Death Eaters or Draco's mission?"

At that, Severus began choking again. Narcissa turned to him.

"Oh, darling, why are you so surprised? I'm about the only person you act like yourself around anymore. Of course I saw what was happening. Do you think I was pleased when Lucius told me about them searching for Potter and Evans? No, of course not. I had a son of my own, I could imagine the terror that poor mother felt. I don't blame you at all for doing what you did or what you continue to do. And I knew full well when you accepted the Unbreakable earlier this year that you must have worked something out with Dumbledore already. Otherwise you never would have agreed. You'd have wormed your way out of it somehow."

She turned back to Albus and smiled. "As for my son's task, well, you know I can't really talk about it, what with the vow- but I'll answer what questions I can. I can't say I'm pleased about the state of affairs or why he's changing loyalties- belief in blood purity is a hard thing to get out of one's system when you've been brought up on it your whole life- but I am relieved, in a way. I want my family in one piece."

"His change of loyalties does not guarantee that," Albus cautioned her, but she only shrugged.

"I know that. But he'll have a better chance of it with you all than with the other one."

Severus finally managed to begin breathing again and he glared at both of them. "When were you going to mention all this to me, Narcissa?"

She smiled again. "Oh, Sev. I couldn't say anything without proof. And, here's my proof!" She gestured at the three of them. "So here I am. You'll get over it, dear."

Snape grumbled to himself rather forcefully and Albus twinkled at him a bit before the door opened again and Draco walked in. The three of them turned to look at him and he eyed them in return. A sinking feeling hit his stomach and he knew that someone had spilled the beans to another someone, even without the look of dread that had pasted itself on his professor's face.

"How did the conference go?" he finally asked.

"It was fine," Narcissa murmured. She moved towards him and frowned. "You don't look well, darling."

"What do you expect?" Draco replied evenly. He glanced at Dumbledore and raised an eyebrow. "Why is Snape here?"

"Lemon drop?" the old man responded.

Severus wanted to fling the bowl of candy out the nearest window, but he settled for balling his hands into fists. He stalked over to Draco and looked him in the eyes.

"Since this seems to be the time for revelations…" he began in dangerously quiet tones, "Draco, you should know that I know all about your task because your mother made me take an Unbreakable vow to help you in any way possible, to the extent of completing the task for you. She and the headmaster have informed me of your decision to become a spy for the Order. I do not wholly approve of this course of action, but it is more desirable than serving Voldemort. I should know. I have been doing it these past fifteen odd years," he finished in one breath, then sat in the nearest chair.

Draco stared at him for several quiet seconds before he turned back to Dumbledore. "I'll take that Lemon Drop now," he begged.

* * *

After a lengthy discussion in which egos were wounded, soothed, placated and finally compromised, the four of them arrived at a suitable plan of action. Draco would continue to fake plots to kill the headmaster, leaving Snape to kill him at the end of the year (Draco had strenuously objected to Albus' actual death, but both men had finally convinced him it was quite alright and that Albus had lived as long as he cared to); after which Snape would take Draco and his mother to be hidden and cared for by the Order. Albus would use Draco's connection to Hermione to pass extra information along to Harry so that he would be better equipped to take down Voldemort, and Snape would, after secreting mother and son, return to Voldemort's side and continue his double agent work. After they'd worked out that side of the equation, Narcissa turned to her son. She could tell he was at least a little upset about the news of his headmaster's impending death, but they still needed to decide what would be done about the girl.

"Draco, please tell me what happened with her. Were you really only searching for a way to complete your task? I find it very hard to believe that you honestly thought the answer lay in a muggleborn girl's maidenhood."

"_Mother!_" Draco exclaimed, looking as if he'd like to lose his lunch. Narcissa rolled her eyes.

"I could have said a great many worse things. You're the one who slept with her. Now stop being a cow and tell me what happened. And _don't_ pretend like you love her."

"I don't," he replied, knowing it was true, and yet…he sighed. "She was helping me study- headmaster's orders!" he explained as he saw her frowning again. "And we were talking and yes, I thought if I could get closer to her then maybe I could use her, somehow. Anyway, we were studying late one night in the library and she was upset about something, so I put my arm around her and one thing led to another. That's all, I swear, Mother." Having unwittingly described Hermione's experience with Ron, he sat back in his chair and waited for his mother to respond. It seemed rather foolish to him to have to lie to his mother about the pregnancy after all the other secrets they'd just revealed, but he knew it was this or his neck. Possibly his mother's neck, too, so he tried not to feel too bad about it and adopted a smug, nonchalant look upon his face.

"The _library_?" Narcissa whispered. She turned a pale face to the headmaster. "You allow your students to have sex in the library? What's become of this place?"

"It was a one time occurrence," Albus replied, still sucking on a candy. "And since then, there are precautions in place which would highly discourage any future couples from taking part in such an activity." He winked at Draco, who flushed.

Draco really _hadn't_ been considering what it would be like to have Hermione up against a bookcase. Of course not. That would be even more foolish than the lie he was already telling. Besides which, he'd been doing his best not to kiss her too soon and he hated to think what might happen if he _did_ get her up against a bookcase. His face turned a brighter shade of red and Dumbledore twinkled a little more before turning back to Narcissa.

"If you would appreciate it, Mrs. Malfoy, I can excuse your son from his classes the rest of the afternoon and you may spend some time with him in the village. I believe Miss Granger's parents have already made similar arrangements, if you'd care to catch up with them."

Narcissa smiled and took her son's hand/ "Thank you, Headmaster. That sounds like a lovely idea. Severus," she nodded to him as she left the office. "Come along, Draco. Where were they? The medical wing? Come on, let's go together. That will look best."

Draco followed his mother out and tried not to glare at Snape too much. He cast one last longing glance at the Lemon Drops on Dumbledore's desk and then they were gone.

Snape looked to his old mentor and friend. "You are insane, Albus," he muttered.

The old wizard licked the tips of his fingers delightedly and smiled indulgently at Severus. "Of course. Now, what do you plan on doing for your next set of lessons with Miss Granger?"

The subject effectively changed, Snape sighed and sat back down. There was absolutely no point in arguing with the man. It was a complete waste of time.


	12. A Breeze Stirs

**I don't own Harry Potter at all or make any money off this fic. All rights to J.K. Rowling and co.**

* * *

Hermione and her parents were just leaving the hospital wing when Draco and his mother approached them. Hermione's mother gave her a small shove forward.

"Why don't you tell your…friend…our idea, dear?"

Hermione could've sunk into the floor then and there- she supposed that actually disappearing on the four of them now would be rude, however; so she gave Draco and his mother a small smile instead and cleared her throat.

"My parents are taking me to Hogsmeade for the rest of the afternoon and wanted to know if you'd like to join us there for a meal."

Draco gave her a smirk and would have responded, but his mother put a stilling hand on his shoulder.

"That would be lovely, thank you. We were just coming to suggest the very thing ourselves. If we're going to be family, we should get to know one another," Narcissa said graciously.

"Who said anything about family?" grumbled Mr. Granger under his breath. Hermione flushed and caught a quick glance at Draco, who had raised an eyebrow and looked like he wanted to laugh aloud. She supposed he _would _be more inclined to amusement- what did it matter to him if her father approved of him or not? It wasn't like they were getting married, or it was a permanent arrangement. Mrs. Granger patted her husband's shoulder and smiled warmly at Narcissa.

"Would you prefer to meet us there later, or-"

"We could…" Narcissa paused and attempted to look thoughtful. "I know just the thing! Why don't you and I and your daughter look around in some of the shops for a bit? My son could spend some time showing your husband around, if that's okay. Won't it be fun to pair off like that? Girls together and boys…well," she finished after a wary glance at Mr. Granger.

Hermione watched Draco's face carefully, which seemed to be turning an interesting shade of red. She looked up at her father and saw the same shade.

What fun.

Her mother echoed her thoughts.

"What fun! That sounds perfect. Shall we, Hermione? Will you be okay with that, darling?" she asked in an aside to her husband.

Mr. Granger managed a short nod and rearranged the grimace on his face into a smile…sort of. Hermione glanced at Draco again, who smirked this time, to her horror. Oh, he would never let her live this down. And she was certain he was going to butter up her father. Pregnancy or not, he possessed a sick charm and- the one thing she _had _discovered about him- a passion for cricket. Her father would be putty, soon enough. He may not think much of Draco and he might be upset about the pregnancy, but he _loved _cricket. Bugger. She hoped he wouldn't tell too many embarrassing stories.

Then she remembered that she would be with _his _mother, who, she was sure, had embarrassing stories of her own about her precious, ickle son. With that thought she flounced forward and smiled at Narcissa timidly.

"Thank you so much for spending some time with us, Mrs. Malfoy. I feel awkward enough about coming from a muggle family without having this ordeal ostracize me further. It's very generous of you to spare us some time."

Draco stared at Hermione strangely. What was she doing? He'd never heard her put down her muggle status before…what was she playing at?

Narcissa looked a little puzzled at first, but grew thoughtful. She smiled slightly. "Of course, my dear. It's my pleasure. You know, I'd never stopped to think what it must be like for you at a time like this. You must feel even more out of place than usual. How dreadful for you. I hope Draco has been making sure you're not too uncomfortable. You know, when I was pregnant, it was sometimes hard to make people see one as anything more than a stomach, eh?" Hermione responded with some more steaming lies and his mother continued to chatter while Mrs. Granger listened to the two with an interested expression.

With a sinking feeling, Draco watched his mother walk ahead with his make believe girlfriend and her mother. So that's what she was doing. Gaining his mother's sympathy. But what for? And was his mother really _empathizing _with her? Hadn't she just been complaining that Hermione was a muggleborn? And why was it suddenly important to him what his mother thought of Hermione when the baby wasn't even his? Frowning, he continued to watch them until he heard a cough to his side. With a slight start, he glanced over at Hermione's father.

"Er," said Draco.

"I'd like to kill you," said Mr. Granger in a conversational tone of voice.

Draco blinked. "I- what?"

"If you ever hurt her anymore than you already have, I will. My wife is pretending she doesn't know what I'm talking about, but I remember Hermione talking about you. You're a little shit and if you hurt her, I'll kill you."

Draco stared straight ahead of himself, the red tinge returning to his cheeks. Well. Tonight was going to be interesting. So much for charming the pants of Hermione's father, although he wasn't sure why it should matter to him, anyway. It wasn't like he was making all the changes in his life because he wanted to stay with her, was it? No, he was after the safety of his family. So then why did he feel so upset that her father seemed to hate him?

Well, a lot of things hadn't been making since lately. And it was true, he had treated her like crap in the past. _You still are, just a bit, aren't you? _the voice in his head pointed out. He growled at it and shoved his hands in his pockets, then looked up to Mr. Granger again. Might as well try to make the most of the evening, eh?

"I'll admit that I don't have the best reputation, Mr. Granger, but perhaps for Hermione's sake we can tolerate one another?"

Mr. Granger looked as though he'd like to puke and he didn't say anything. Draco forged ahead.

"We might talk about the weather. I could ask you about your dental practice."

More silence. Draco tried one more time.

"How do you like cricket?"

* * *

The evening went as terribly as Draco imagined it would. For his part, at least. Although the weather was nice and not _too _chilly and the stars twinkled down at them pleasantly from a dusky sky, he did not have a good time walking about the village. Hermione's father didn't even want to inspect the place, let alone speak to Draco; and they spent most of their alone time seated on a bench in the small square, staring before themselves stonily. Mr. Granger spoke no more than two kind words to him the entire time they were together; and at the dinner table, he managed to ignore Draco just as easily, choosing to pay more attention to his food than the young wizard. Their conversation centered entirely on cricket, as Mr. Granger clearly had no desire to know anything about Draco; and the sympathetic, yet smug, glances Hermione kept sending him only made him want to rough her up a bit once they were alone.

_No_, _not in that way_, he had to keep reminding himself, although the image of her up against a bookshelf had implanted itself firmly in his mind.

Instead, he had to listen in on his mother's pregnancy stories, red-faced, and pretend to be interested when Hermione's mum showed him the onesies they'd bought. They all had unicorns or brooms on them. When he pointed out that neither of those were gender neutral, Hermione almost burst into tears.

It was a very tedious meal.

"So, Draco," Mrs. Granger had asked, attempting to pull him into the conversation, "how do you like school? Any idea what you want to do once you get out? I understand that the wizarding world doesn't have university the same way we do."

Draco had smothered a grimace and quirked an eyebrow at Hermione as if to say, _is she for real? How should we tell her I'm bent on the destruction of her world? You want to tackle this one?_

Hermione had grown pale, but luckily for them both Narcissa had stepped in with some casual answer about taking over the family business. Unfortunately, Mr. Granger had asked what the family business was. That's when the real hemming and hawing had begun, until- miraculously- Hermione had cleverly described the Malfoys as landed gentry, in the old English tradition.

Mr. Granger had audibly snorted at the answer and in turn wanted to know if Draco sat around eating bonbons all day- not quite in those terms, of course.

To Draco's eyes, it had gone downhill from there, though Hermione and her mother were clearly enjoying themselves with Narcissa's company. His mother did know how to charm, didn't she? He felt a little jealous of their uneasy camaraderie, in fact; and had to remind himself several times during the meal that he didn't care how well Hermione got along with his mother. The whole thing was a temporary business arrangement…except that it wasn't, anymore, was it? Or at least, it was no longer the same arrangement. Instead, he was turning coat, switching sides, becoming a double agent. He wondered briefly if that would garner some respect from Mr. Granger and decided not. The man was out for blood, alright. He'd probably only be more upset at the extra danger he was putting his daughter in. He'd glanced over at the man, then, and been rewarded with a glare for even looking.

Needless to say, Draco was thrilled when dinner was over.

* * *

For Hermione's part, she thought the evening was tolerable. The weather was relatively balmy that evening and it was pleasant to walk about the village and inspect shops with her mum. Narcissa and her mum had even insisted they buy her a few things for the baby, though it wouldn't be due until the end of school. She felt confident that she'd convinced Narcissa of her harmlessness in terms of Draco's future _and _won her sympathy. She thought maybe she hurt her mother's feelings once or twice with some of the things she'd said about muggle life, but she explained as best she could to her afterwards. Her mother seemed to understand…as much as either of them understood any of it. Her parents tried to make the entire night as comfortable as possible for her, even talking about magic as much as they could- well, her mother did. But it wasn't the same and it never would be, as having parents who were witches and wizards.

It was not the first time that Hermione truly felt what she was- the first time she _yearned _for what her half and pure-blood friends had. Family that knew what you were without asking. _It must be nice_, she mused as she walked back up to the castle with her parents on either side. They had split from Narcissa and Draco after dinner was over; Mrs. Malfoy had said she wanted to speak to Draco alone for a little while.

Softly, Mrs. Granger took her daughter's hand and looked over at her, smiling.

"I'm sorry I can't be there for you the way you need me right now, darling."

Hermione was startled and glanced over. "What do you mean, Mum?"

"I saw the way you kept looking at Draco and his mother during dinner. Wistfully. I wish I could be there for you that way. I can only help you as a mother- as your mother, but she can help you as a witch."

From her other side, her father spoke as well. His voice was gruff.

"We were stricken when we first knew what you were. Didn't know how to react. Then we second guessed ourselves and our marriage…was it one of us? Whose genes did this to you, thrust you into a strange world without the benefit of your family?"

"We realized it didn't matter, of course, and we loved you and were happy for you just the same," continued Mrs. Granger. "But sometimes, especially with something like this happening…well, we feel it too, darling. We just want you to know that. It's hard not to think that this is somehow our fault for not being there-"

Hermione felt herself growing angry, then sad. It wasn't their fault- it wasn't anyone's fault. Shit happened. She said as much and heard her mother gasp and her father begin howling with laughter.

"Well it's true!" she exclaimed. "It's nobody's fault. I was stupid and tired and scared- stressed out- and he was right there. I made a mistake. Girls make these sorts of mistakes all the time, even girls who have never left their homes- I won't let you two blame yourselves."

The air felt considerably clearer after that and her parents saw her to her room, inspected it thoroughly; dropped off her purchases from that afternoon; and finally, after much hugging and many promises of love and well-being, they left.

* * *

Hermione was just brushing her teeth and getting ready for bed when she heard her buzzer going off. Puzzled, she rinsed quickly, reached for a towel and made for the door, tying her dressing gown more closely about her person. She wondered if perhaps her parents had forgotten something- it wasn't so late, after all. Or maybe Ginny wanted to visit, or Professor McGonagall was checking in. So, she was rather surprised when she pressed the button to ask for a name and Draco's voice filtered through to her. She debated a few seconds before allowing him through. What if he just wanted to cause more trouble this evening? But, she supposed she should let him explain his behavior from last night. Besides, she wanted to know how his visit with her dad had gone…though from the looks they were giving one another at dinner, the answer was _not good_.

Draco was almost surprised that she let him in. Almost. She met him at the door, opening it wide enough to let him in before she closed it after him. She was wearing a dressing gown in a becoming blue that set off her brown hair and eyes. Its voluminous folds fell against her creamy skin, giving it a pearly cast in the lamplight; and she had cinched it in tightly at her waist in an effort to cover herself up properly. He was captivated.

Until she cleared her throat and he looked down, abashed, only to see her pink bunny slippers and the edges of hideously plaid pajama pants. He couldn't help it; he laughed.

She glared at him and made to open the door again. "If you 're going to be that way, you can leave."

"No, no," he said hurriedly, waving a hand. "I'm sorry. It's just…you have interesting taste in sleep wear."

Hermione looked down and flushed. He was making fun of her pajamas, after the way he'd behaved yesterday? What was with him? She looked back up at him quickly and then turned away, taking a seat on the edge of her bed. "Why are you here?"

He started to sit down as well, seemed to think better of it, and instead took a stance near the window. "I want to apologize for last night. It was an accident. I didn't mean to invade your privacy that way."

Hermione chewed on her bottom lip a little and shrugged. "I guess it's alright. Ginny reminded me that I'm not at my most mentally stable. I should expect accidents like that to happen every now and then. Being pregnant messes with my hormones, which will probably mess with my magic usage." She eyed him, but glanced away when he looked up at her. Relief was evident on his face.

"You're not upset with me?"

"I didn't say that," she snapped. "Now how much longer are you planning on staying here? Or did you have something more to discuss?"

He looked at her speculatively. She had caved to his apology much sooner than he'd expected. In fact, she seemed almost shy around him now, aside from the bit that was grouchy. Should he tell her? Now would be the perfect time…admit that he was switching sides, that he was frightened of the future…he shook his head and ran a hand through his hair. No, now was not the time for that. They were barely learning how to be civil to one another.

Hermione caught a quick glance at him and could tell he was thinking. About what, she had no idea. _Probably how best to torture me, _she thought. But there was a softer air to him, as though he was suddenly unsure of himself. Even…conflicted about something. But what? He looked up and caught her staring at him and felt himself glare out of habit.

She was taken aback and found herself glaring in return. "So you don't even feel like gloating now?"

It was Draco's turn to be taken aback. "Gloating? What do you-"

"Yes, gloating- of course! Because you had front row seats to the 'Hermione's muggle parents explore the strange wizarding village' show! If you didn't come to try and embarrass me and threaten to humiliate me tomorrow by regaling your friends with the hilarious story, then why are you here? And don't expect me to believe you simply came to apologize," she growled, pointing a severe finger at him.

He stared down the length of her arm and frowned. "Will you please point that thing somewhere else? There may not be a wand attached to that hand, but you are a dangerous and wily witch."

Hermione flushed again and lowered her arm, realizing how ridiculous she sounded.

"I did not come here to embarrass you. For the record, your father hates me and I spent most of the evening trying not to say anything that would induce him to kill me. All I saw was a girl enjoying an evening out with her mother and future mother-in-law."

Hermione opened her mouth to respond, shut it, and stared at him, eyes wide. Draco frowned again.

"What?"

"You- you just said…"

Draco quickly reviewed what he'd just said to her and brought a hand to his mouth. "Er," he mumbled. "I should go."

He turned, opened her door, and was ready to step outside when she called after him.

"Wait- Draco, you didn't come here just to apologize, did you? There's something bothering you."

He looked over her and felt his cheeks turning a pink to rival Hermione's flushed face. "I don't know what you're talking about," he muttered.

"I'm sorry," she responded, taking a dew steps toward him. He backed up some.

"What on earth are _you _apologizing for?"

"For overreacting. For jumping to conclusions. I'm not usually like this," she smiled ruefully. "I just can't seem to think straight anymore. I'm not used to…this," she finished, gesturing uselessly to herself.

Draco began to feel uncomfortable. He hadn't meant to start anything with her; he'd simply wanted to apologize and…what? Make sure she didn't mind that her father hated him? Make sure she liked his mother? Find out how she felt about him?

Ridiculous. He cleared his throat. "For the record, neither am I. Why don't we leave it at that tonight and get some rest. We can have breakfast together tomorrow and talk then, if it'd make you feel better."

Hermione thought about this for a moment and finally shrugged. "If you're sure you don't want to talk anymore tonight…"

"I am," he affirmed quickly. He spontaneously moved forward a few steps and caught her in a light hug before releasing her and rushing from the room. Hermione watched him go with a dazed expression on her face before she walked over to the door and stared down the stairwell after his retreating shadow. She closed the door for the third time that evening and dead bolted it.

She really didn't think she wanted any more visitors. She'd had quite enough for one night; and now she had a lot to think about, too.

* * *

Draco paused at the foot of the stairs and looked back up. He couldn't see any light spilling from above any longer, so he assumed she had closed the door again. Good. Perhaps that would keep him from dashing back up there and revealing all his secrets to her. He hadn't expected these sorts of feelings to creep upon him the way they had. It was unsettling, to say the least. Not to mention that humiliating slip of the tongue he'd had- future mother-in-law? Where had he gotten that? He knew that's what two people who were having a baby together usually did, but he had no intentions of marrying her- the child wasn't even his! What the hell had happened to the business part of the arrangement? He supposed it had changed the minute he'd noticed how pretty she was, how softly her hair curled about her face…it had changed the minute he'd decided to switch sides. Fuck all.

It looked as though turning coat was going to be more complicated than he expected. He wasn't just worried about his family anymore and he'd have to come to terms with that, somehow.

The question was, would she ever come to terms with it? He laughed at himself morosely and raked his hand through his hair again. What an oaf. Whether or not Hermione liked him was the least of his worries at the moment.

Straightening his tie, he stalked off down the hall. Time to get as far away from her as possible so he could think straight for the first time that evening.

The fact that he hadn't even asked what sorts of secrets she'd wormed from his mother didn't cross his mind for the rest of the night.

This, of course, also meant that he was too distracted to see the figure that stepped from behind a pillar, newly uncloaked; and stared after him with a fierce glare upon its face before it started up the stairs to Hermione's suite.


	13. The Wind Picks Up

**I do not own Harry Potter at all and make no money off this fic. All rights to J.K. Rowling and co.**

* * *

Hermione was just kicking off her slippers and sliding under the covers of her bed when her buzzer sounded again, for what she fervently hoped was the last time that night. It had been long day, she was tired all the time now and she was lucky if she made it through an entire night without getting sick. With a growl and a sigh, she flipped the covers back and swung her feet back over to the floor. The buzzer went off again twice more before she reached the door and she was practically seething by the time she answered it.

"Hello?" she asked. "Who is it this time?"

"Er, it's me, Hermione," came Harry's voice. "I need to talk to you."

Hermione chewed on her lip a bit, debating what to do. She really didn't feel like talking to Harry about all this at the moment. She knew he would be upset and demand answers and would probably never buy the Draco story. Crap. But she also probably couldn't just send him away, either, without leaving him even more upset with her. And Harry needed her, hadn't Snape and Dumbledore both said that? So she couldn't risk him getting mad and staying mad at her.

With another sigh she buzzed him up without saying another word. She could hear him pounding up the stairs and opened her door to prevent him running headlong into it. He paused at the landing and stared at her hard. She flushed and drew her robe tighter around her, gesturing for him to come in.

"Well?" she muttered. "Are you coming in or not?"

Harry finally looked away, his cheeks flushing to match hers, and walked inside. He stood looking about himself, as if unsure of what he should do now that she'd let him in.

"Sit down, Harry," Hermione sighed, rubbing her eyes and taking a seat herself. He looked at her again and did as he was told, though he sat at the edge of the chair and seemed extremely uncomfortable.

"Why did you move out of the tower, Hermione?" he finally asked after what felt like minutes.

Hermione refrained from rolling her eyes and covered a yawn. "Because I had to, Harry. Look, I'm really sorry you found out the way you did, but they wanted me to keep it a secret-"

"So it's true? You're actually pregnant? By Malfoy?"

He sounded so shocked and hurt that Hermione couldn't bear to look him in the face for several seconds. She was filled with conflicting emotions- hurt that she couldn't tell Harry the truth and anger that he seemed so ready to accept the lie that was being told. She wanted desperately to tell him the truth, to cry about Ron and get frustrated about Draco and talk everything over with him, like she usually would've…or at least, like he would've done with her, had their situations been reversed.

She finally lifted her eyes to his and crossed her arms. "I'm sorry, Harry. I wanted to tell you, but Dumbledore and the others…they just want to make sure I'm protected." She kept talking; she didn't see why she couldn't at least half explain things…it would make things easier for Harry to accept, she felt sure of that. "It's really the best thing, for Draco to be the dad. His family is bound to protect me now, with a blood tie and all."

Harry looked disbelieving. "When has his family ever given the impression they would protect half bloods or the muggle born?"

"It's a code- since he-" she paused, knowing she daren't tell Harry the truth about Draco's allegiance. "Well, since his dad is a Death Eater, there's a code that says all children and, er, grandchildren are protected. But I didn't mean for this to happen, Harry, you have to believe that!"

Harry seemed a little mollified at that and stood up to come and sit next to her. "I still don't trust him."

"You don't have to."

"If he does anything else, or lets anything happen to you-"

"I know, Harry."

Harry put his arm around Hermione and gave her a quick hug. "And you swear you're not in love with him or brainwashed or any rubbish like that?"

Hermione growled and pulled away, although she blushed readily enough at the thought of being in love with Malfoy. She brought her hands to her cheeks and glared at Harry for even bringing up such a- well, _ridiculous_ idea. "Harry, even your god father could see how smart I was. Do you think I would ever join Voldemort? And as for your other question, I refuse to dignify it with an answer. Ridiculous," she reiterated to herself.

Harry's face flushed and he mumbled several apologies in succession, putting his arm about her once more. "I'm sorry. I know, you're right. It's just so hard to believe…"

"What? That Malfoy would sleep with me? That's it, isn't it? That's what everyone is saying behind my back. I bet that's what Ron said, isn't it?" Hermione found herself pulling away again and growing angrier.

Harry seemed surprised and scooted away from the clearly upset Hermione. "No- that's not what Ron said, at all. I mean, he made the same vague threats I did, but other than that he really seems to want you to be happy. Not that either one of us is really happy about the Malfoy bit, but we want to support you, no matter what. Sure, some of the others were talking about him and you, but when Lavender tried to say something about you not being Malfoy's type, Ron got really upset and defended you."

It was Hermione's turn to be surprised. "He did?"

"Yeah- in fact, he kind of got on Lavender's nerves."

"He did?" Hermione repeated stupidly.

Harry nodded. "He sort of started, well, gushing about you." Harry seemed a little embarrassed to be outing his friend's behavior, but didn't see too much of a problem talking Ron up to Hermione. After all, he did want to support her choices, but if he could steer her away from Malfoy, that was alright in his book. Ginny would disenchant him of that notion in the next few weeks, but for now Harry was blissfully ignorant of Ron's standing as a moron, other than his friend's normal idiotic behavior.

Hermione blushed again and looked away. "Well. That wasn't very nice to Lavender, was it?"

"I suppose not. But between you and me, I'm pretty sure Ron wants to break up with her."

"Why?" Hermione turned on him again, suddenly, eyes wide and frightened. "Why would he do that? They're attached at the bloody hip-"

"I dunno, he's tired of going out with her, I guess. He only really went out with her in the first place because he felt left behind by us- you know, I dated Cho and you had Krum-"

"I was barely fifteen! Ron could have asked me, instead of Lavender Brown. Krum meant nothing to me- I mean, he was a good friend and it was very flattering, but Ron knew I liked him more!"

"To be fair, Hermione, no, he didn't."

"To be fair to me, you boys are complete twats and why can't you grow up at the same time us girls do?" Hermione was visibly upset again and, though Harry knew very little about babies and even less about pregnancy, he was smart enough to know that getting unnecessarily upset was not good for either. He patted her on the shoulder and began to murmur apologies. Hermione harrumphed several times, but seemed to calm down.

"So Ron wants to break up with Lavender, you think because he wants to go out with me?" Hermione asked after a few minutes had passed. Harry frowned, thinking what the best way to answer her question was: he didn't really know the real answer, could only guess, so saying anything at all seemed like a hazard. He grunted instead and continued to pat her shoulder. Hermione shuddered, leaned against him again, and sighed.

"Just when it's too bloody late. Great."

"Why does it have to be too late?"

Hermione sighed again. "It just is, ok? Let's stop talking about it. I'm just getting depressed. Besides, we have classes and homework to worry about and I need sleep."

Harry couldn't argue with any of those things, though he did wish they could talk longer; but he supposed his questions about Ginny and whether she flew for the other team or not would have to wait. So, with several more awkward hugs and a tearful good bye on Hermione's part, Harry left, the invisibility cloak safely hiding him once again.

Hermione watched him go, relieved, confused, and ready for bed, more than ever. With a determined frown upon her face, she cast a silencing charm on her buzzer and finally crawled back under the covers of her bed. Sleep descended, bringing some of the most pleasant dreams she'd had since the pregnancy had begun…and also some of the most frightening.

* * *

Draco's sleep was no less disturbed than Hermione's that night. He had one dream after another filled with visions of Mr. Granger coming after him with a cricket paddle, then dental tools, and finally a screaming, crying baby. It didn't make the dream any less of a nightmare when he realized the baby had flaming red hair. Still, when he wasn't dreaming of Mr. Granger (or Voldemort, who put in no less than seven appearances), his subconscious played with more pleasant images: Hermione leaning over a cauldron, Hermione nibbling her hair while reading, Hermione smiling shyly at him…which were all things, of course, that he'd seen as early as his first year, but only noticed in the last two weeks. Not that she'd smiled at him since first year. No, the most he'd gotten after behaving so ill towards her was a roll of the eyes- and he was still getting plenty of those. So even as he was seeing her in his dreams, the images were punctuated with frowns and sighs the size of Stonehenge.

Needless to say, he didn't get a lot of sleep that night. When he wasn't waking up screaming at Mr. Granger or Voldemort, he was waking up to his own muffled moans of arousal. And from what? Seeing Hermione bending over a cauldron? What the hell was wrong with him? Shouldn't he be more disturbed by the fact that he was switching sides and lying to the dark lord than by his own dreams of a clever witch? Since when had intelligence turned him on?

And never mind that she was intelligent- she was pregnant with another man's child! True, he'd been trying to slip more into the role of proud papa- embracing their roles was the only way to convince anyone- but she showed absolutely no signs of return devotion. Not that he was devoted to her- gods. Was the word affection? But how could he possibly hold any fondness for her? When she wasn't ignoring or lecturing him during their tête-à-têtes, she was making big, weepy, cow eyes at the Weasel. Why, he had no idea. Hadn't the brute willingly agreed to set her aside to fate as a Death Eater's paramour? Merlin.

Draco sighed for the tenth time that night, rolled over, and sat up. He checked the time as quietly as possible and groaned. It wasn't even two in the morning and he was wide awake with no signs of going to bed. His mind was racing with all that had been going on lately and his usual course of calming it didn't seem prudent in lieu of his agreement with Hermione. Not that Pansy or any of the other Slytherin girls would have minded helping him "cheat" on Hermione, he was certain.

That left one person for him to talk to. With a determined grimace, Draco got out of bed and shrugged into his robes. Then he left his room and headed down the stairs. He had to get out of the dormitory to clear his mind…not that he was going for fresh air.

He really, really hoped that Snape would be kind at finding one of his students banging on his door at two in the morning. Also, that Snape's proclivities did not run to young men. A visit in the middle of the night would definitely make things awkward, then.

* * *

Harry met Ron as he walked back into the Gryffindor common room. He'd gone to his room for the cloak right after practice got out, and from there straight to Hermione's; but he hadn't bothered to tell Ron. He figured Ron, as kind as he was being about Hermione's situation at the moment, probably didn't want to spend too much extra time around her- at least for a little while. Ron quickly dispelled that idea.

"Where were you, mate? I thought you were right behind us when Lav started to drag me towards the library, but then I couldn't find you anywhere."

"Er," said Harry.

Ron narrowed his eyes. "Is it that fifth year Hufflepuff that's been watching practice lately? You caught a snog with her, didn't you?"

"Not quite," Harry replied.

"Well where were you, then? Oh- oh, no. Are you still seething about that howler the other night? You didn't try to track down Malfoy, did you?"

Harry shifted from foot to foot and shook his head again. "No, Ron. Besides, as much as I hate the bloke I just sort of promised Hermione that I wouldn't do anything stupid. And that she has my support, no matter how much I can't stand that arse."

Ron was quiet for a few minutes, watching Harry and looking as if he wasn't sure what to say. Harry sighed.

"See? This is why I didn't want to say anything. I know you're still upset about it and I figured-"

"No, that's not it, Harry," Ron interrupted him. "I sort of went to see her the other night, too- with Ginny." Harry stared at him open mouthed and Ron pushed ahead. "I promised her the same thing."

Harry was dumbfounded. He knew his friend was more than capable of intelligent, compassionate behavior, but he'd never seen Ron behaving so maturely before. He wondered briefly what Ron had up his sleeve, decided it really didn't matter since he still didn't like or trust Malfoy, and smiled broadly.

"So you're friends again?"

Ron nodded glumly. "Yeah. Friends."

"Don't be that way about it, Ron. You know she's only owned up to it for her safety. And she doesn't seem totally thrilled about what happened with Malfoy."

Ron perked up a bit at that. "Really? What did she say?"

"Come on, let's sit down with some homework. We can discuss it over Potions. As long as she's not going to be around as much to help with our studies the least we can do is pretend to pay attention to them ourselves."

"Speak for yourself," Ron snorted. "Lavender is constantly dragging me to the library these days. Dunno why. I think she thinks I have a Hermione complex or something."

Harry raised an eyebrow at his friend as they climbed the staircase to the boys' rooms. "But Ron," he smirked, "you _do_."

Ron sent Harry a murderous glance, but followed him up to their room to collect their books anyhow. There was no point arguing the facts, after all. He had a feeling that in the coming months, despite the current cease fire, there would be enough arguments to last the three of them a very long time, indeed.


	14. A Small Tree Is Blown Over

**I do not own Harry Potter at all and make no money off this fic. Everything belongs to J.K. Rowling, Scholastic, and Warner Bros.**

* * *

When Draco finally rolled from his bed the next morning, he was, to say the least, tired. He'd spent an extra hour and a half up the night before, talking with Snape. Not only was the man still not his favorite person at the moment, he'd had nothing truly constructive to tell him. It was partly why he'd been up so late; every time Snape had tried to pass off Draco's questions and concerns, Draco would find some other excuse to stay longer in the hopes that the man would eventually cave to his requests.

Snape, for his part, felt terrible for the boy. There was still a part of him, however small it was at this miserable point in his life, that yearned for Lily Potter and regretted every decision he'd made from the age of thirteen on. He didn't want Draco to meet the fate of a lonely, embittered old man that he seemed to be reaching for with every passing year. It wasn't that he felt fatherly towards the boy- truth be told, if Snape felt parental feelings for any child in Hogwarts, it was Hermione Granger (which he would never, ever admit to anyone). Hermione, after all, was the one who bore the most resemblance to himself. A late bloomer, indecently smart and quick-witted, and an insufferable know it all to all her professors…he'd been in all those positions at one time in his life. So, he had a fondness for Draco, but no real love. It was more like what he felt in Potter's case: the need to protect and prevent. And that wasn't truly parental, it was simply a desire to avoid past injustices. There was no need for Draco Malfoy to grow old in Azkaban, or to lose his immortal soul committing atrocities for a mad man.

And he could already clearly see the way the boy was feeling about Granger. It was hard to miss…and would be even harder for him to hide now that the entire school knew the truth. So he tried to encourage Draco as best he could, but it was difficult when he had no desire to reveal how deep his own regrets ran…and how far he was going for them now. Certainly, Draco knew that he was a spy for the Order, that he'd been one for a long time, but the boy didn't know _why _he was doing it and he had no intention of letting him find out, unless it proved absolutely necessary. So while Draco sat before him, whining about how cold his office was and how on earth was he supposed to take on the task before him, Snape let his mind wander. He even wondered, if he'd had a mentor to talk to besides Dumbledore- someone who knew what it was like to be a spy, to live with regret- would he have changed sooner? Could everything have been avoided?

Clearly, the act of mentoring Draco through this difficult spot would take more time on his part. He needed to think about what affect he wanted to have on the boy…what path would be best for him. Until then, the best thing for him was sleep and he promptly told Draco so, no less than five times before the boy finally left the older wizard's office, just as confused as when he'd arrived.

However, Draco was not a slow boy; he knew that his house head was hiding something. Whatever it was, he was certain it had something to do with Draco's current situation with Hermione. He even wondered idly if it was a past romance of Snape's before dismissing the notion. But he also knew that Snape would never say anything until he was ready to…therefore it couldn't be that important, could it? Draco had enough issues to deal with as it was, without Snape's regrets about a certain witch (or wizard, he still wasn't sure on that point) muddling his own decisions. So it was with some trepidation and several yawns that Draco finally pulled himself from Slytherin's cold dungeons and across the school to Hermione's hidey hole.

Hermione answered the door, dressed and groomed, but startled to see Draco.

"What are you doing here?" she asked.

"I said I'd take you to breakfast, didn't I?" he replied smoothly. "Are you ready? Here, let me carry your books." He took them from her as she turned and locked the door behind her.

"You don't have to do this," she grumbled. "I hate having people stare."

He raised an eyebrow and put his free hand behind her, ushering her ahead of him. "People will be staring whether we eat together or not. Why so squeamish all of the sudden? We've been holding hands and ducking out of class together for weeks now."

Hermione flushed and glanced away as the walked down the hall together. "Harry cam to see me last night."

"What, is he in love with you, too?"

"No!" Hermione gagged at the thought. "Please, Draco."

"Just asking. You are very pretty, you know."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "All my friends are being very understanding about all this…"

"But?"

"Nothing. Never mind." She didn't want to say the other part out loud. The part where, even though they were being kind, it was a kindness born of loyalty…not because they actually approved and accepted her choices. Or mistakes. Whichever they were.

Draco put a hand on her shoulder and stopped her. "Hermione. You have to talk to me about these things. Trust me, I hate manufacturing memories as much as you do, but people will be able to tell if there isn't some sort of natural intimacy between us."

"I wish I didn't have to do this."

Draco furrowed his brow and stared at her. She refused to look at him and he could feel his heart thudding low in his chest. Why did her words suddenly make it ache that way? Why should he be bothered by it- the fact that she didn't want to confide in him, or be friends, at the least?

"Look, pretend I'm your best friend."

She snorted. "Best friends know nearly everything about each other. I know pretty much nothing about you."

"You know I was raised by purist parents. You know I live in a large manor house on a country estate. You know my marks are high enough to get me Prefect. You know my father is in Azkaban and in order to save my family's standing I took the Dark Mark. You know-"

"Yes, but I don't know why any of those things happened! I don't know how you _feel_ about them. I don't even know what your birthday is or what your favorite color is-"

"It's burgundy, actually. And I was born June fifth. My favorite food is smoked salmon and I'm fond of falcons, but none of that really tells you anything about me, either, does it? We've gone to school together for the last five years, always had at least one class together, and you are bloody brilliant! If you're so desperate to know something about me, why don't you use that brain of yours and evaluate me for yourself? You can't trust a word I tell you anyway, can you?"

Hermione began to feel rather strange, being put on the spot by Draco Malfoy, and she blinked back tears. "I'm sorry," she whispered.

"What?" Draco stepped back, confused. Was she upset now? He hadn't really been yelling- or trying not to. He was just trying to talk some sense into her. "No! Don't be sorry- Merlin!"

"Then what do you want me to say?"

Draco continued to stare at her and she finally lifted her head and stared back. "I don't believe you really want me to draw my own conclusions, Draco, because they're not very nice ones."

He smirked and leaned against the wall. So, she _was _upset- this time because he'd driven her to feeling bad. "Let's hear it," he replied.

Hermione glared at him. "You had a pleasant, spoilt childhood. Your mother showers you with anything you want, which your father resents, so you have to work extra hard in school to win every ounce of his approval. His loyalty to Voldemort was a frightening subject for a young boy to hear his parents discussing and you weren't privy to such conversations until you were older. You only had a second hand idea of what things under his thumb were really like until this last year; which made it less real and life as a bully far easier. You don't really want to hurt anyone and the only reason you took the mark was because you were afraid of what he'd do to your family. Now you're helping me because you want another option. If things don't work out as an Eater, you can always defect, right? But you only really plan on protecting your mum because you're pretty sure your father will never go along with your plans. He, unlike you, really does hate muggles."

Draco could feel heat blooming in his cheeks and he returned Hermione's glare. She looked smug.

"Well, you did ask. I warned you, Draco. Now, can we please finish this argument and go to breakfast? I'm actually hungry for once and I'd like to eat sometime today."

"Fine. Let's go." He pushed off from the wall and swept ahead of her down the hallway.

She looked after him, a little surprised. Was he really so upset? She hadn't said anything he didn't already think she knew, so what was his problem? He was the one who'd insisted she tell him. She did her best to catch up with his long strides, but ended up walking a few feet behind him. Fine. If he wanted to be a pain, let him. They could work on their communication skills later.

Draco was more upset than he'd thought he would be. He didn't entirely understand what had made him goad her into talking. He knew what she would have to say- had he hoped she would include something nice in there? Something about how she could tell he actually cared about her future, too? Instead, she'd laid it all out like he knew she would- made him sound like a whiny opportunist whose daddy didn't love him enough and a coward who would place his bets on both sides simply to protect himself. Or maybe that was his own personal interpretation. _You have issues, Draco_, he told himself grimly.

* * *

When they got to the great hall, Hermione stopped short. Draco stood beside her and watched her movement.

"What is it now?"

"You mentioned talking over breakfast."

"Yes…"

"That means we have to sit together."

He laughed at her discomfort and grabbed her hand. "Right. My table isn't that full at the moment. We should be able to eat in peace-"

"I refuse to sit there!"

"Well we can't talk if your friends are hovering, can we?"

Hermione's eyes grew big and watery again and Draco sighed. He began to move towards Slytherin, tugging her along behind him.

"Let's talk some other time."

"What other time? Like when we go on rounds together? When we're not both swamped by regular school work and now this mess? No, no. We'll talk now."

"I-"

"Hush and sit down, Hermione."

"You!" she finally exclaimed and allowed herself to be led to a seat. She dumped her bag on the bench beside her and glared at the food before her.

Draco sat down next to her, maneuvering the bag out of his way and putting her books down.

"Come on, eat something. You're the one who broke off our previous discussion to insist on food."

She gave a stony glance. "That was a discussion?"

_Touché_, his mind replied, but he found himself filling a plate with food for her anyhow. He was just putting eggs and steak on it when she finally stopped him.

"No, no. I don't eat like that anyhow. Besides, all that cholesterol isn't good for me or the baby. Here, I'll get it myself."

He smiled indulgently and kept the already full plate for himself. "Thank you for cooperating."

She shot him another look, but this one was less full of malice than the others, so he felt he'd made some progress.

"So what were we supposed to be discussing right now?" she asked, before biting into her toast.

"Our relationship, I think. Now that the entire school knows things have changed. Rather, now that they know our parents know-"

"Stop, please. Okay, what about our relationship? It clearly doesn't need to be as clandestine, now. What route do you want to play? That we're two teenagers who made a mistake? That one of likes the other? That we're madly in love?"

"Clearly you've given this more thought."

"Like I believe that. You've thought things through more than I have."

"Perhaps. Well, the mistake bit is the best route to take, I think. Though of the two of us, I will have to display an interest in you. No one would believe we were together if you were the only one to have feelings."

"No? You can't sit there and tell me you Slytherin clods don't make bets about the girls in this school."

Draco looked horrified. "Some of my housemates might, but I-"

"Rubbish. I overheard some fifth years discussing Ginny a few weeks ago. Heaven only knows what they say about me-"

"Wrong place, actually, but that's just a matter of opinion," came a voice behind the couple.

Hermione jumped and Draco turned about to face Blaise. "What do you want?"

"Just come to pay my respects to your blushing bride," the other boy murmured.

Draco stood up and balled his hands into fists. "Horse shit. Leave us alone while you still have the chance."

"So it's true, then? You and Granger?"

Draco tried to keep his blood from boiling over completely and shrugged. "Might be."

"It is, from what we all heard the night before last. Your mum isn't too pleased; I thought at first she must be off her rocker, but there's no way anyone could mistake that over-protectiveness for anything else."

"Or maybe he's just as big of an arse as everyone says," came a second voice. Harry stepped over to Hermione and held out his hand.

"Are you done, Hermione? Ron and I would love if you walked to class with us."

Hermione looked up from her meal, quickly stuffed a few extra pieces of toast into her bag, and stood up, too. She gave Draco a pointed look.

"We'll talk later. I don't care how many inches Snape gives us," she snapped at him. The act of being a bitch wasn't so difficult for her at the moment, a small fact she was grateful for. She was quite pissed: first, that her breakfast had been interrupted and second, that Draco hadn't listened to her in the first place. Well. At least it made their course of action that much easier to fake…although it was disturbing, that Zabini had implied that Draco actually _did _like her. She decided to ignore the problems that could cause for the time being and turned to walk off with Harry. "Oh, be a dear and bring my books with you, Draco?" she asked over her shoulder.

Blaise looked after her, then back to Draco and began to laugh. "Oh, Merlin. You do have it bad, don't you?"

Draco couldn't help himself. He punched Zabini in the face, sending the other boy toppling backwards on the Ravenclaw table. Then he grabbed Hermione's books and his own bag followed her out of the hall.

Looked like he'd just have to go without until lunch. Fucking Slytherins, always seeing what no one else was supposed to see. How dare Zabini insinuate such things? And in front of her, when she clearly still thought he was faking it all- fuck. _Aren't you?_ he asked himself. His face went more pale than normal and he realized Zabini was right- one hundred percent right. He actually- gods- _cared._

Hermione had been right, too. They should've waited to talk. After all, they were kind of officially a couple now- he had a right to ask her on dates.

_Wait, dates? _He could hear his inner voice laughing at him. _What part of you thought any of this would be easy? _With a snarl on his face but what he hoped was hopeless devotion in his eyes, he started down the hallway after her.

It looked like Snape had been wrong, at least. Clearly, a good night's sleep did nothing to help his situation except leave unresolved problems for him in the morning.


	15. The Boxwoods Are Uprooted

**Don't own Harry Potter or make any money here. All rights to J.K. Rowling and co.**

* * *

Hermione felt kind of bad for being such a bitch to Draco, but it wasn't like he didn't have it coming. He'd told her they needed to be more in character, after all, and her character was a girl who'd been knocked up by a guy she didn't even really like. It was working rather well from her point of view. Since he'd essentially given her the okay, she didn't have to worry about pissing off her friends with her mood swings. Now, if she felt one coming on, she would shut her mouth, march off to find Draco, and let lose with him. Although occasionally she wished she were letting lose in ways that didn't involve yelling at him- not that he needed to know that tidbit of information. It was one part disgusting and two parts titillating, which made it all the grosser.

For his part, he was taking things pretty well. He seemed to acknowledge her need to blow off steam and besides, she usually ended up staying around to help him with his homework, so that was a bonus for him. It also made sure she got hers done, too- something she'd been actually _neglecting_ since she learned about the pregnancy. She'd thrown herself so whole-heartedly into learning about and caring for her child that she was taking time to do things like read mothering books and soak her feet. Her grades weren't reflecting it yet, but she knew that if she let up just one more day, they'd start to sink faster than Neville's toad in the Prefect's bathtub.

Of course, to the untrained eye it looked as if she was working three times as hard in all her classes as she had before. However, to the trained eye she was skimping on inches and letting her measuring get a bit messy. Ginny could tell she'd let up on her study hours by at least a full two a week, but she still wasn't concerned, despite Hermione's more regular panic attacks.

"You won't fail anything," she told her repeatedly. "You still have top marks- even if you did cut an inch or two from that last scroll for Snape, you wrote so clearly and knowledgably that he couldn't help but still give you the highest score. What's happening isn't that you're cutting corners, Hermione- no matter how badly it feels like it. You're merely becoming more efficient with your intellect."

Ron seconded her. To Ginny's annoyance, her brother had begun to follow them everywhere. He claimed it was because they were friends and he could offer protection against any crazed Malfoy fans who wanted to take Hermione out. Ginny knew better than that, but without outing her brother's secret to the whole school, she couldn't do anything about it. Yet. She had written the twins for some advice on the matter, after all. About how to get Ron to leave them alone, of course.

What was even more discouraging was the way Hermione responded to Ron. It wasn't worshipful, or anything like that, but it was more like…admiration? Gratefulness, perhaps, that he was sticking by her after the way he'd treated her? When she should be seeing right through him. Ginny could only chalk it up to the fact that instead of turning to Draco for emotional support, she was using him purely as a punching bag at the moment. Not that she blamed her, exactly, but it wouldn't look good if anyone sifted through her memories. Still, she couldn't see that there was any way for Hermione and Ron to maintain a truce for Harry's sake if they were constantly bickering. Perhaps she could cast a subservient spell of some kind on Ron that would make him take Hermione's berating. That way she could build the kind of relationship with Draco that she was supposed to without losing an outlet. She'd just be switching punching bags, instead.

But it would probably still be a week before the twins could help her come up with something. Until then, she'd have to do her best to run interference.

With a pointed look on her face, she turned to Ron. "Don't you have somewhere else to be? Like writing quidditch plays or something? Go help Harry out, will you?"

Ron gave her a glare and turned back to Hermione. "As I was saying-"

"Oh? Are you supposed to be helping Harry right now? Don't worry about me, then. We'll get together for potions later. You know, Harry could probably help you out with them, himself, with how well he's doing- no thanks to that book," Hermione remarked, smiling at Ron. She unconsciously rested one hand on her still small abdomen and Ron resisted the urge to lean across the table and kiss her cheek.

He gave Ginny another glare. "He can manage, I'm sure."

"Ron- Harry really needs us this year. Besides, your girlfriend will probably be back at the tower soon and want to see you. We have to make time for Harry."

With a sigh, Ron stood up. He couldn't argue with Hermione- not with her looking all rosy cheeked and healthy and so concerned about their mutual best friend. She gave him another smile and he felt it straight down his spine. With some maneuvering, he got his books into his bag and slung it in front of himself before backing from the space. Merlin, how embarrassing. Now his pregnant, best friend, never girlfriend, one time fling was giving him hard-ons without even trying. And he could barely stomach kissing Lavender without imagining she were someone else.

_Merlin_. He waved a hand at them before turning and moving out the door. "See you later, then."

Ginny watched him go with satisfaction. "Finally," she sighed. "Thank Merlin. Gods, he's getting on my nerves."

Hermione shot her a glance and quirked an eyebrow. "He's been rather sweet lately, I thought."

"You can't still like him, can you?"

Hermione squirmed in her seat. "I didn't say that, did I? Besides, it's just nice to have him being so…nice. I like it. I hated how we were always arguing. This has to better for Harry, right?"

Ginny gave her an appraising look. "So you really don't still like him that way?"

Hermione shook her head. "Gods, no. I mean, maybe in twenty years. I know I'm having his baby, but…there's no point in talking about it this way. I can still think he's cute and not want to go out with him at the same time, can't I?"

Ginny thought about this for a moment. "That's true. I hadn't thought of it that way." She smiled and leaned forward. "In that case, who do you like? I know that look- you're day dreaming lately and it's not about that baby."

Hermione squirmed again and shut her book. "I can't get anything done with either of you around, can I? You know the only time I actually finish my homework now is when I'm studying with Draco and that's only after I've yelled at him, despite the fact that the person I'm angry with is really Ron or Harry or McGonagall, that sainted _witch_!"

Ginny stared at her, felt the corners of her mouth turn up in a wicked grin, and began to laugh. Hermione glared at her.

"What's so funny?"

"You like Draco!"

"And that's funny?" Hermione replied, before realizing what she'd said. One hand went over her mouth. "I didn't mean-"

Ginny's laughs diminished to chuckles and she waved a hand. "Of course not. How could you? He's rude and arrogant and handsome and _rich_ and agreed to be the father of your unborn child despite great danger to himself." She lowered her voice. "Despite the fact that it's the child of a _Weasley._"

Hermione stared at her, looked away, fumed for a second, and began packing her books. "I'm going to find Draco. I can't get anything done around you when you insist on acting so juvenile."

Ginny gave her a smug smile and leaned back in her seat. "Okay. You should probably spend more time with your baby daddy anyhow."

Hermione shot a glare at her before picking up her bag. "Unless you want to start attending my sessions with Madame Pomfrey with me, you can shut it." This remark was immediately followed with a wave of guilt and she sat down again. "Oh, Ginny, you know I don't mean that-"

"I know, darling. You're pregnant. That makes you crazy. I don't take anything you say seriously."

Hermione laughed this time. "Except unwitting declarations of like, right?"

"Except those, yes."

* * *

A few days later found Hermione exactly where she wanted to be, for once: studying with Draco in the library. Not that she wanted to be with Draco- well, the jury was still out on that one. But essentially, she was spending time with books and that was _good._ Although she really wasn't spending all the time studying…to Draco's eyes, she was only talking. About the baby. And _Weasley_. Oh, her quill was still moving a mile a minute, but he didn't see how she could be getting anything constructive done. And the conversation was starting to get on his nerves.

"Stop talking about him for once!" Draco hissed at her before turning back to his book and raking a hand through his hair. He was at his wit's end. For the last week all he'd heard from Hermione was what did he think the baby would look like and would it have red hair, she wondered, or brown eyes?

He didn't bother pointing out that, no shit, it might have brown eyes- weren't her eyes brown? That was one less glamour charm they would have to cast, at least. Now all he had to pray for was mouse brown hair and not red and maybe they wouldn't have to cast any charms. Was this Hermione- the caring, loving one excited about the baby- better than the frightened, detached one? He wasn't sure, but either way it was getting on his very last nerve. He paused in his thoughts as he realized that she had been talking to him, responding to his heated request.

"What?" he asked irritably. She frowned.

"If you're going to make demands, you might pay attention to the conversation, you know!"

He eyed her impassively and sighed. "Look, all I mean is that no one is going to take us seriously if all you do is talk about red hair and goofy grins and whether it will have a penchant for the Chudley Canons!"

She huffed. "_It_ is a _she_, I've already told you that!"

"You don't know that yet."

"Yes I do-"

"Have you had it tested or something?"

"No, but-"

"Then you don't know. I refuse to listen to you going on in a motherly tone about this bastard any longer and for your information, Malfoys never beget daughters."

Tears welled in her eyes and she turned away from him this time. He frowned. "What?"

"You didn't have to point out she's illegitimate."

"So? It's what she- argh! _It_! It's what _it _is and there's no point diddling about the facts."

The sniffling began. He groaned. She whirled about.

"Stop that! You sit there _groaning _like you're being made to bear the worst cross in the universe when you're not even the one that has to be in labor for Merlin knows how long- urgh! Do you even know how hard all this has been? How long it's taken for me to learn to care about her this way? I'm not talking in _motherly tones _for your or anyone else's benefit, I'll have you know! It's entirely for _her_, so she doesn't come into this miserable world thinking she's not special, or not wanted, or, or…or unloved! So there, Draco Malfoy, and if you have a problem with how I treat my pregnancy and _our _unborn child, then you know what you can do about it! You can have out anytime you bloody well like!" She finished in a mighty shriek, hair frizzed up magnificently, eyes wild with tears and fright and arms akimbo. He smirked.

He couldn't help it. Then he reached a hand out across the study table and stroked his fingers very gently along her cheek. "Alright, then, Granger."

Her eyes widened at the touch and more tears spilled out. He smiled more gently. "Feel better?"

She nodded uncertainly and then broke away from him, turning to dig about in her bag for a hanky. He felt something swell up in his chest for a moment and he wasn't sure, but he thought it might have been…something more than fondness. Protectiveness? The nasty L word he was avoiding so stringently? No, surely not. He shook his head and closed the book in front of him.

"Why don't we take a little trip this afternoon?" he suggested, watching her wipe her face carefully.

The expected argument about school work and studies and- what were those things? Lamaze classes? Either way, the response he usually got didn't come this time and instead she lifted her tear stained face to his.

"Where?"

He leaned away from the table and eyed her for a moment. "Who are you and what have you done with-" he began, but didn't get far.

"Never mind, Draco. I'm tired. I'm skipping class to sleep unless there's something more interesting you had in mind." She stood up and shoved books into her satchel. He stood as well and retrieved the bag from her hands.

"I'll carry this. Come on, you can take a nap and I'll read to the baby."

"Her. You'll read to her," she corrected him.

He stifled a groan. "Of course, Hermione."

She eyed him sideways as they walked from the library together. "So you were just kidding about that trip then?"

He eyed her in return. "Not necessarily. But if you're tired…"

She turned her eyes back to the front. "I am. I was just curious. About where you wanted to go, I mean."

He smiled devilishly and moved closer to her, his free hand brushing hers as they walked down the hall. "And what I wanted to do?" he murmured close to her ear. His voice was low and she could feel it rumble into her chest…and other bits.

She flushed and stumbled a bit, causing him to reach out and grab her hand in his. "Alright?" he asked softly, the smirk still crossing his features.

"I'm fine," she snapped at him, withdrawing her hand. Whether it was the talk she'd had with Ginny earlier or simply her own haywire hormones, she was suddenly _acutely_ aware of Draco's every move.

"Like I believe that," he responded and drew her hand firmly back into his own. "You do need a break from this awful castle, don't you? Fresh air and the country side and cute, fluffy animals- that's what you need. Someone to do your homework for you so you can relax and not worry about what's coming next."

She stared at him, not bothering to hide her revulsion and simultaneous fascination with the picture he had just described. "It sounds disgusting," she responded. "Is that what your mother did when she was pregnant with you?"

He shrugged. "Hell if I know. But it sounded good. Come on, I'm breaking you out of Hogwarts."

With that, he tugged on her hand, urging her to move a little faster. "What? Draco- you can't- we have Arithmancy tomorrow morning- Draco!" She protested heavily, but didn't let her hand slip from his. The truth was…the truth was, she _was _sick of Hogwarts at the moment. She never thought the day would come, but she also never thought she'd end up pregnant and in the cold, stone monstrosity of a school. The two were incompatible to happy thoughts of a positive pregnancy. And Draco's hand on hers? Her hand in his?

Incomparable, at the moment. Over the last two weeks things had begun to happen very quickly, with the unexpected reveal to his parents as well as hers and then the entire school finding out the way it had…

His hand on hers was the most kindness- not that this feeling had anything to do with his _kindness_- aside from Ginny's increasingly awkward hugs due to divided loyalties about Harry and Ron (not to mention the even _more _awkward hugs she got from Professor McGonagall), that she had felt in several days, to say the least. She sighed a little at the unexpected happiness and Draco looked over his shoulder at her.

What- was that _happy _on her face? Because he was kidnapping her away from school? Something must not be right in the girl's head. Very not right. That, or she was perhaps- very slowly, but there just the same- starting to care for him.

He wondered if the thought should put some happy on his face as well.

No?

Well, that was alright for now. If he hung around the manic Gryffindor for much longer, he was sure that would change soon enough.


	16. A Tornado Blows Through, Emotionally

**I do not own Harry Potter or make any money off this fic. All rights belong to J.K. Rowling and associates.**

**AN: I'll be updating one chapter at a time from here on out to give myself time to write the new ones. Someone asked how long it'll be- at least 25 to 30 chapters, I'd say. Also, when considering that some of the characters sometimes seem a bit ooc, remind yourselves that it's a teenage-pregnancy fic, will you? I do often try to write true to the characters, but come on. This one is quite over the top and yes, they are all a bit ooc, all the time. I don't mind if you take umbrage with that fact that they're ooc, either. I'm just trying to insert some realism and calm into the situation. We all have the tendency to get way too territorial about these characters here in the fanfiction verse. Relax, dear readers, and enjoy. It's just fanfiction. The great thing about it is if you don't like something I've done you can stop reading and go find someone else who has probably written things exactly how you want them- or better yet, write it that way yourself. Cheers! **

* * *

They were out the castle doors and running across the courtyard before Hermione knew what was happening. She could feel a large grin spread across her face and the feeling of the wind rushing past them- or were they rushing past it- was wonderful. Draco didn't slow down even once they were out of sight. Hermione finally had to tug on his arm hard before he stopped and looked back at her. He was smiling.

Hermione felt her heart skip a beat. Bloody hearts. Always doing things one didn't want them to- like falling for Ron, for instance. No, clearly her heart was not trustworthy. But at least Draco wasn't Ron. That was a start.

"Where," she gasped out, "are we going?"

Draco had pulled her into an empty niche in a corridor and now he looked around again before responding. "Shouldn't that be a surprise?"

"Well unless you've passed your Apparition test months before anyone is supposed to even take it, then I want to know how we're getting to…wherever it is we're going."

He nodded. "Fair enough. No, I haven't passed the official ministry test. But don't worry, I know you hate brooms so you'll just have to trust me. I am a Death Eater, aren't I? You don't seriously think they'd let me take the mark if I couldn't be useful, do you?"

Hermione eyed him warily. It was the first time he'd so blatantly referred to just how 'useful' he could be to Voldemort's cause and, quite frankly, it made her rather uncomfortable.

"So, you are planning on apparating."

"Yes."

"But you're not going to- um- I mean…why can't you just tell me where?"

Draco eyed her for a few seconds before he realized what was happening. She thought he might take this opportunity to turn her over to the Dark Lord. His eyes widened and he gagged.

Hermione stepped forward, concerned. "Are you okay?"

"Sorry, just threw up a little in my mouth. Merlin, what is wrong with you? You're the one who said I was using this mess as collateral in case the Death Eaters go south. Do you honestly think I would take you to him? Now? While you're pregnant? Gods, Granger. Even I'm not that heartless."

Hermione felt tears rise and she turned away to fish for her hanky again. "Well I'm sorry- but it's what you are, you know! And I know you took the vow same as everyone and you've been terribly nice to me lately, but I can't help feeling scared sometimes, can I?"

Draco sighed and rubbed his eyes. "I know, I know. I'm sorry too. See, this is exactly why we _both _need to get away. Now are you in?"

He held out a hand and Hermione turned back around, her tear stained face looking awfully appealing and delicate. She managed a half smile and put her hanky-free hand in his.

"I'm in."

He smiled at her gratefully and then they were running again, until they reached a point outside the castle grounds. Draco turned on the spot without so much as a nod in her direction, only grabbed hold of her arm tightly and slung his arm about her shoulders and the world spun.

* * *

Draco had definitely been taking apparating lessons. From whom, Hermione had no idea- and she didn't really want to know- but he was superb at it. She had read plenty, she'd even experimented a bit, a fact she'd been careful to hide from everyone- but there was no unsettling pull at her middle, no jolting stops…just a smooth, swift flight to wherever he was taking her.

And then they were there. Hermione felt herself be thrown forward by the sudden stop and Draco caught her up in his arms, keeping her on her feet. She looked up at him, sandwiched between his arms and gave him a small smile.

"So…you can let me go now."

He flushed and dropped his arms. "Sorry. See, here in one piece! Now where do you want to go first?"

"Um- where are we?"

He laughed and took her shoulders, turning her around. "Take a look, Granger."

She looked about them, saw old fashioned store fronts, paving stone streets and flowers from every window, despite the increasingly winter like weather. She could see beyond the tops of the shops and realized they were in a hilly district of whatever city they were in…and they were in a city. Below them she could see dozens of city lights and streets, leading into the distance. There was a river too, and it looked as if something towered over the cityscape…she found a smile spreading over her face and clapped her hands in delight without thinking.

"Paris!"

Draco laughed at her obvious pleasure and congratulated himself inwardly. What girl could resist Paris, after all? He leaned over her shoulder and began pointing out various sites. Hermione took everything in and finally stopped him, her face serious again.

"Draco, we can't stay here."

"And why not?"

"Well, we have class in the morning and I was supposed to meet Ginny later tonight after her practice-"

"So owl her. Or use the hotel floo."

"The hotel…?"

"Well, yes. Don't worry- it has a rollaway. What did you think we'd be doing? Spending the afternoon and leaving? That's not a break," he scoffed.

She looked about thoughtfully once more. Rather than ask the obvious questions- why Paris, why did he have a hotel room reserved already, why choose to spend the evening with her- she focused on the moment. And right then she was so aware of his hands on her shoulders, of the little life inside her, and of the wind in her hair. She turned her head to look at him. "What district are we in right now, anyway? I didn't think there was a hill this large so near the tower."

"It's wizarding Paris, Hermione. How do you think I apparated here so easily?"

She got a strange look on her face and for a moment, he thought she was going to get upset with him, but instead she forced a smile again. "I've read about it, but I've never been here before. I guess you'd better show me around, then. What did you want to do first? We'll discuss the length of our stay later," she added with a pointed glance.

"Of course we will," he groaned before looping an arm about her waist and leading her forward down the street. "How about we get out of these robes and I take you shopping? Come on, we'll stop at the hotel first."

* * *

Hours later, Hermione found herself leaning on Draco's arm, laughing at another of his jokes and forgetting all about her predicament. She wasn't sure when she'd decided to stop nagging him about sending that owl, but she was glad of it. She was more than a bit surprised by it, but she was having a wonderful time. She was almost sad when he finally said they should head back to the hotel and had just begun to pout when he shushed her and led her down another cobble-stoned street.

"Aren't you the one who said this was a bad idea?" he asked, smiling at her.

"Did I? I didn't say that exactly, I just said we shouldn't _stay_. There's a difference."

"Well it doesn't matter anyhow. Here we are again. Do you want to eat in the restaurant or in the room?"

Hermione felt her stomach rumble and flushed. "I don't care- just give me food now. My hours of keeping it down are swiftly dwindling."

Draco laughed. "Go to the room and get settled. I'll order down here and be right up- in the meantime, why not open the chocolates?"

Hermione clasped one of the bags in her hands closer to her chest and smiled. "I thought these were for your mother."

"That's what I wanted you to think, Granger. Go on up. I'll be there shortly."

He began to turn away and Hermione quickly grasped his arm, stopping him. "Draco, I- thank you. Thanks."

Draco looked back at her, a strange expression on his face before he shrugged and gave her hand a squeeze. "You're welcome."

He watched her nod and then move to the lifts, keeping his eyes on her until she was out of sight. To be honest, although he'd enjoyed their afternoon off, he hadn't truly been able to relax. After all, with such an important task as he'd been given that year he was probably a high priority on the watch lists of both interested groups and he'd been keeping an eye out for tell tale shadows all day. It was starting to wear on him a bit, truth be told. He'd been putting on a good show for everyone, but he knew Snape, at least, could tell he was feeling it. The man had actually tried to comfort him the other night, leaving Draco to make a hasty getaway. Draco didn't want comforting…unless it came in the form of Hermione Granger's thin arms and frizzy hair.

He rolled his eyes at himself before gathering his wits again and putting in an order for food at the desk. After that he took a moment to send an owl to Hogwarts to let Snape and Dumbledore know where they were, in case they were concerned. As an after thought he included McGonagall in the message. Hermione's head of house would want to know where she was, after all…finally, he sent a brief message to his mother to tell her about his outing so she wouldn't be concerned when he dipped into his accounts. Then he headed for the lift, himself. When he got to the room, he discovered the food had arrived seconds before he did- ah, the joys of traveling with magic. Hermione glanced up at him guiltily, a plate laden with food already sitting in front of her. She looked like a wild animal, ready to flee at the first sight of danger and he couldn't help the laugh that barked out. She glared at him and continued to eat, but shoved a plate in his direction.

She was seated at the table in their suite, her stockinged legs tucked up under her, the coat she'd allowed him to purchase for her discarded in a chair. They were both still surprised by that turn of events, but she hadn't made a move to return the coat yet. Draco had seen it in a shop window and its colors and cut- green and gold with a high collar and wide, belted flounce- caught his eye. Before she'd realized what was happening, Hermione had found herself shoved into the shop and the coat foisted upon her in front of some mirrors. Neither had been able to argue that it didn't look divine on her, but when Draco had pulled out his money Hermione had thrown a fit. The look Draco had given her when she'd begun complaining about money, though…he'd turned on her with fierce, stormy eyes and waxed eloquent about her being the mother of his child and how she was worth every cent. He'd said it so dominantly, so possessively, that it had surprised her and she'd shut up long enough for him to buy the coat without further objections.

Eyeing it now, as he dug into his own plate, he said, "It's still here? I thought for certain the minute I was out of sight you'd have it taken away."

Hermione looked at it mildly, much more pleased with everything now that her blood sugar wasn't so low. "Had you? It is a bit ostentatious for my tastes…but it is lovely…"

"I knew you liked green," he said smugly and she smiled beatifically.

"You know a lot about me. You've been watching me."

Her remark caught him off guard and he raised a brow. "Er- that's normal for our situation, isn't it?"

"Is anything considered normal for our situation?" she responded, polishing off her food. They had both eaten ravenously and he looked down at his plate to discover he was almost finished, himself.

"No, I don't suppose anything is. Aside from the idea that we've pulled each other- just like every other teenager, anywhere. That's about the only normal side to it."

"Not everyone has sex at age twelve," Hermione said dryly.

"I didn't mean that-"

"Well, you meant something. I can promise you that our daughter will never-"

"Isn't that what the father is supposed to say?" Draco asked, smirking and Hermione shut up. He glanced at her thoughtfully and his face grew grim. "I suppose you think I'll be an awful father," he said.

"I said no such thing."

"But you're thinking it," he continued, ignoring her. "It's alright. Everyone does. The only people who believe in me anymore are a dotty professor and an even dottier headmaster."

"How can you say that? What about family and friends? You've always been popular-"

"Popularity? I sometimes wonder if they were ever really my friends or if my father had them all scared shitless. Family? Are you serious, Hermione?"

Hermione sat back, deflated for a moment. "Oh. Right. Sorry, I forget about them when I'm…well."

"When you're what?"

Draco made an angry motion and got up, leaving his plate and the food. He walked over to the sofa by the window and sat down in it, twisting about to rest his chin on his arms as he gazed out over the city. Hermione followed him and sat on the edge of the sofa gingerly, not sure if he wanted to be disturbed. They'd had such a lovely day together and she said as much to him, hoping to encourage him, ease his mind about whatever was bothering him. Being with Draco, after all, wasn't so different from being with Harry or Ron. They were all boys and, she discovered to her relief, operated in much the same fashion.

"Right. One nice day together has you convinced I'm not so bad, does it?"

"It's not just one nice day, Draco, and yeah, it has. You've been really kind to me."

"I guess that means you think I've changed, right? That I'm not just another murdering blood purist. You're wrong, Hermione."

"I don't know what you mean," she replied. "You're not a murderer. You've been born in unfortunate circumstances…"

"Stop lying to yourself, _Granger_. I'm as bad as they all think I am. I could murder someone, if I had to. If it meant my life or theirs. I don't see…" his voice trailed off for a moment and he blinked rapidly before continuing in a quiet voice. "I don't see how I'm ever going to get out of this mess. Death Eaters. The Dark Lord. It's impossible. I sometimes wonder if there really is a way out. Being kind to one pregnant witch is not going to fix things, if things can be fixed at all. I'm my father's son, after all," he finished in a hoarse whisper.

He suddenly felt very, very tired and found himself wondering how far it was from the window to the cobblestones below. Could he make the jump without taking Hermione down with him? But then…then what would she do without his protection? He shook his head, blinking again. Blinking back the tears he knew were now obvious to the brilliant witch sitting beside him.

Hermione leaned towards him and took his hand in hers. He gave it freely, showing no signs of stopping her from touching him.

"No, no, Draco," she said quietly, "don't say such things about yourself. How can you ever expect to change when you've put yourself in the same category everyone else has?"

He looked up at her strangely and moved to take his hand away, but she placed her other hand over his, keeping it firmly in her grasp. It was too much for him to bear just then. It truly was.

Without another word, he leaned forward into her, burying his face in her neck. She could feel his tears flowing down his cheeks and onto her skin, onto the collar of her shirt, but she was frozen in the embrace, unsure of her actions. And then she knew what to do about it. She calmly reached up one hand and began stroking his hair softly; murmuring soothing noises into his ear; letting him shake gently upon her shoulder as all the weight of his world suddenly came to bear upon him.

"There, there," she whispered, "I'm here for you. _We're _here for you. No- it's okay. Cry as long as you need to, Draco. It will be okay."

Subconsciously his other hand drifted forward and came to rest on her stomach. She smiled against his hair and continued to murmur quiet, soft nothings as he cried. The entire moment took no more than a few minutes, but it felt as though time had slowed down for them in that fancy hotel room overlooking the city of love.

Eventually his breathing evened out and she could feel the dampness on her skin evaporating and being replaced only with the chilled air of their room. Still, Draco remained where he was for several minutes more, taking in the scent of her skin, drawing his thoughts together. The hand over her stomach curled its fingers into her top and he smiled.

"Hermione," he said softly. She didn't respond immediately and he finally pulled away and brought his hands to his eyes, rubbing briefly at them before he turned to look at her. She was smiling at him serenely, the happy all over her face once again. "Thank you for a lovely trip," she responded. "I've had a really nice time."

He blinked a few times and turned his head to stare out the window. So. That's how it was, for now. "You don't want to stay overnight?" he asked. "There's nothing like breakfast in Paris."

She grinned and stood up, stretching. "We have Arithmancy tomorrow morning. Besides, it's not as if I've never had breakfast in Paris before. My family isn't exactly poor."

"Ah," he replied. "That's right. Dentists. Medieval torture devisers. How could I forget?"

She frowned and smacked him playfully on his shoulder before giggling. "You make it sound so droll. How do you do that, Draco?"

"Do what?"

"Make everything that doesn't involve being a pureblood sound like it's the worst job in the world."

"Ah, well," he remarked, standing as well, "that's because they are."

He received another smack to his arm for his trouble and responded with a very boyish grin. It earned him a thorough once over from Hermione and the grin melted from his face.

"What?"

"You seem happier now…that we're not at school. Why is that?"

Draco's eyes immediately became hooded and his guard went up. "I don't know what you mean," he replied, attempting to keep his tone light.

She frowned. "There it is again- every time I try to talk to you about what's really bothering you, you clam up. You either distract me with a crude joke, or an insult, or a question about muggles…this time it was the tears. When are you going to be honest with me, Draco?"

He shrugged. "There are some things you don't want to know the truth about, Hermione. Had you ever considered that?"

"It's something to do with school, isn't it? Is it this task? Or is there something else you're supposed to be doing? Something that involves Voldemort and it's weighing very heavily on you because you don't know if you can…"

He brushed off her questions with a smirk. "You know, Hermione, it seems to me that I'm not the only one that avoids certain topics of conversation- you, for instance, avoid talks about our relationship at all costs…" Draco noted with satisfaction that his topic change brought a flush to her cheeks and made her stumble backwards a few steps, all thoughts of his Death Eater tasks driven from her mind.

"Well- it's not as though we have a real relationship," she mumbled. "So what's the point of talking about it if it isn't-"

"Oh, but it's very real to me, Hermione," he murmured, stepping closer to her. She took another several steps back and found that she'd cornered herself against a wall.

"Nonsense- I can believe that you and I could be friends over this entire mess, but the idea that-"

He moved in for the kill and placed his hands on either side of her, using the wall as leverage as he leaned into her. "Friends? Just friends? When I've memorized everything about you?"

"What- what do you mean?" she whispered, scrunching up against the wall- trying to make herself as small as possible.

He smiled down at her. "You're the one who said earlier that I've been watching you. How else could I know the exact way your hair frizzes in the rain…the way your eyes light up when you know the answer to a question…the way you bite your lips when you're getting nervous about something…"

Hermione gave a small start as she realized she was doing just that at the moment. She frowned at him and made to push him away from her, placing her hands on his shoulders.

"Those are all things that anybody can easily see," she muttered. "Ginny knows all those things too, but we're not lovers."

He grinned. "No? That's too bad. There goes one of Potter's fantasies."

She rolled her eyes. "Harry does not think-"

He interrupted her smoothly. "Now now, Hermione, this conversation isn't about the Boy Wonder. It's about you and me…and what you're going to do about us."

"Nonsense," she repeated stubbornly, looking everywhere but up at him.

"Oh, now you're just hurting my feelings, Hermione."

She brought her eyes up to his and her own widened as she watched the grey orbs smoldering at her. She caught her breath.

"Stop being ridiculous," she whispered. "This is a business deal- nothing more."

His eyes sparked and she practically whimpered beneath his gaze, but managed to glare up at him anyway, as if she could will him to go away.

"Hermione," he said very carefully as he pressed his body up against hers, "no one- and I really do mean that- is going to believe the first thing about this so-called business deal if you and I can't even hold hands without you flinching, or your eyelashes fluttering madly, the way they are now."

She looked away again and tried to still her trembling. "Is that why you brought me here, to a hotel?" she asked softly. "So you can take advantage of me the way Ron did?"

He looked at her in consternation and lifted his body away. Taking her chin in one hand, he forced her face forward. "Look at me, Hermione," he growled. She did, her eyes full of- what was it? Desire? Longing? Whatever it was, it wasn't the fear he'd thought would be present.

"Ron should have stopped himself, but he didn't. And you never said no to him. There's no point in regretting what happened between you or feeling terribly maligned about it. Don't imagine feelings that weren't there- it will only hurt you later on, keep you from getting close to other people."

"I know that," she said quietly. "That's not what I meant."

He sighed and let go, dropping his hand back to the wall behind her. She leaned against it, looking up at him expectantly. "Then what did you mean?" he asked, confused.

"Are you ever going to kiss me?" she blurted out, a flush spreading along her cheeks. She looked away again. "I know I haven't been very forward with you, but I kind of expected you to take the lead…Ron and I- it was a mistake. I don't even remember how it all started or stopped. And kissing Viktor fourth year- that was all him, too. I've never…" she paused, searching for words.

"Never really started anything?"

She lifted her eyes to his again. "That's right. And you- well, you're Draco Malfoy. And it's hardly as if you really like me to begin with- I can't imagine that we would actually sleep together for the sake of this charade, but kissing…I expected some of that. I'm more prepared for it than you probably think I am. But you haven't done anything yet and I thought that this was how you preferred things…platonic," she finished shortly.

Draco stared down at her, thinking about what she'd just said. She was right, of course. Blasted Gryffindor know it all. He hadn't done anything yet, supposedly because he'd been waiting for her to be ready- but was it really him who wasn't ready? Who wasn't prepared to take the next step?

Resolutely, he grasped her shoulders and looked down at her. "Well," he murmured.

Hermione closed her eyes. "Well," she replied.

And then he leant over very slowly and placed his lips upon hers.

* * *

When he withdrew, they were both a little winded. Hermione's eyes were still closed and her cheeks were a bright pink. Draco had to shake his head a little to clear it.

"That was…interesting," Hermione finally said breathlessly, her eyes fluttering open. Draco eyed her. Was that disappointment he detected?

"Only interesting?" he asked.

She paused before answering, chewing on her lips as though she was thinking very hard about the best response. When she spoke again, she seemed almost sorry.

"Viktor was very good, you know."

Draco rolled his eyes and moved away. "Thanks for that- here I am, risking life and limb for a Weasley brat and a muggleborn and you're comparing me to _Viktor Krum_? Ouch, Hermione. I am vastly wounded," he finished with a sarcastic twitch of his lips before turning round to face her again.

She raised an eyebrow and cast him a smirk of her own. "But for a Slytherin, that was rather nice?"

He glared at her. "And just which other Slytherins have you been snogging?"

"Oh, only you, Draco, my love- only you!" she exclaimed and batted her eyelashes at him mightily.

At which, they both snorted and fell to some minutes of laughing. She was only trying to clear the air, Draco supposed- after all, he could feel her _interest _in the kiss as well as she- and their mutual breathlessness afterwards attested to how good it had been.

Scary thoughts.

Followed by scarier actions, because not a minute later Draco turned to find Hermione throwing her arms about his neck again, bringing their lips together for the second time that evening. Needless to say, the second kiss lasted a great deal longer than the first. Draco, as it turned out, was more than happy to wrap his arms about her and discover new methods of breathing.

* * *

**AN: Sorry about the tangent up there in the other AN. I'm sure it'll only attract more flames, but whatever. I just want us all to enjoy our time together, not worry about silly things. *sigh* Hope you all liked this update!**


	17. The Wind Settles A Bit

**I do not own any part of HP, alas, alack. Also, this story was inspired by Drivelicious' _And Two Must Love_, available on Granger Enchanted and the plot is used here with her permission.**

* * *

Hermione felt like she was on fire, from the top of her head to her toes which were currently curling in their stockings. Draco's mouth was firm and warm and he was kissing her exactly the way she'd hoped Ron would, but didn't. Like she was the only girl in the room and not just the only available warm body. Like he had wanted to kiss her his entire life- which was ridiculous, really, because there was no way Draco Malfoy had wanted to kiss her, a muggle born witch, his entire life. It was simply too-

Oh, yes. That right _there_.

She let her head fall back from his mouth as he trailed it over her cheek and down her jaw to the tender skin of her neck, his hands doing their best to keep them both from toppling over the edge of the sofa upon which they were perched. Precariously. Fortunately, the floor was carpeted and without any more thought, Hermione grabbed the front of his robes, twisted them in her hands, and pulled him over. He landed on top of her with a slight "oof," but it didn't seem to hinder his mouth much. He simply brought his hands from under her back, bringing her down the rest of the way to floor ever so _gently_ and then propped himself over her with his forearms, his lips still skimming over her neck like he intended to take a bite-

Oh, _oh._

Hermione let out a gasping sigh and wriggled beneath him, to which he finally pulled back and looked at her properly. She smiled up at him dreamily like she'd just discovered an entire stash of old potions texts in the restricted section and he tried not to let his mind over-process the situation. He was lying on top of Hermione Granger, pregnant by another bloke, in a hotel room in Paris and he'd been kissing her like she was the answer to his prayers.

Which she technically was, but his heart didn't need to beat so wildly at the thought. Honestly. What was becoming of him?

Her face was flushed, his lips were swollen, and their hair was thoroughly mussed. Hermione, Draco thought, looked like she had never been kissed properly before in her life. He shrugged as he realized she probably hadn't, and he was actually doing her a very large favor. But there was still the matter of her being pregnant. She wriggled again as the look on her face grew impatient and he stifled a groan before dropping his head into the crook of her neck. She smelled like sweat and apples and now _him_ and he wanted very badly to keep kissing her…but something held him back. He didn't want this to happen. At least, not this way. Draco Malfoy might have had sex before, yeah. And he might have had it with more than one partner…but he was a serial monogamist, not a sexy beast. Well, he was that too, but damn it, he had standards! He wasn't going to deflower Hermione Granger all over again without so much as a by-your-leave. He wanted to give her more than a fantastic shag on the carpet of a Parisian hotel, if that's what was going to happen between them.

She wriggled again and he saw stars.

"Hermione…" he groaned and she giggled. The filthy minx actually _giggled_. "Shush," he said and she stopped giggling. Draco lifted his head and kissed her again, more slowly, savoring her lips like they were a delicacy. Hermione moaned into his mouth and he rolled off and away from her finally, breaking the kiss.

"What is it?" she asked softly. He looked over at her, recognizing the look on her face. The look of a girl who doesn't want to stop, who thinks she can handle sex without consequences or emotions. He looked away.

"That was a good first kiss."

"I'll say," she breathed.

"But if we kept it up…" He turned to look at her again, propping himself up on an elbow. The glance he gave her was significant and sexy and Hermione was certain Ron had never, ever looked at her that way.

"Oh," she said in a small voice. She glanced away and stared up at the ceiling. "Yes, it's best we stop there, then. Although," she added, her voice mischievous, "it's not as though you could get me in any more trouble than I'm already in."

Draco snorted and got to his feet before holding out a hand to Hermione. She sat up and took it solemnly, though her eyes were sparkling.

"Let's save that discussion for a later date, shall we?" he suggested. "I can't say it doesn't appeal to me, but under the circumstances…"

"I understand. I'm pregnant, not made of glass."

"You are hormonal," he pointed out.

Hermione smiled again. "So are you," she said archly with a pointed look at a certain area of his anatomy. He flushed and rolled his eyes.

"Merlin, Hermione. One kiss and you're all over me. I shudder to think what the entire package would do to you."

Hermione chose to remain silent after that and eventually joined Draco back on the sofa where he sat gazing out the window again.

"Penny for your thoughts?" she asked after some length.

"It's snowing," he said.

She peered out into the dark and finally turned off most of the lights in the room, leaving only the magical fireplace flickering in the sitting area. "So it is," she replied softly.

"Tomorrow's Friday. It's already gotten quite late," he responded, casting a glance at her. She was seated beside him again, her feet tucked beneath her, her skirt and sweater rumpled. She pursed her lips and returned his glance speculatively.

Hermione could tell what was going on. Draco didn't want to go back to school. Life for him there wasn't any safer than it was anywhere else. He had a terrible burden he was carrying and yet he'd taken her on as well. No matter what his original reasons for it were, he was doing his best to take care of her, to be her companion and friend now. If he wanted a short holiday away from the stress of school and their daily roles of snake and golden girl, she was happy to give it to him. He was going to be the father of her child, after all, and regardless of that, she wanted people to be happy. To love and laugh and live peacefully. She wouldn't be working so hard with Harry to overcome the evil in their lives, otherwise.

"I've read ahead in Arithmancy. The material we're covering tomorrow isn't difficult. I wouldn't feel terrible skipping, would you?" she finally offered.

He immediately shook his head. "Not me. And after that we have…Charms?"

"That's not even worth attending, really," Hermione said.

"And Potions…hardly our worst subject," Draco replied, a smirk hovering about his lips.

"Besides, it _is_ snowing. I don't want to catch cold, it could be bad for the baby. We might as well-"

"Stay here," Draco finished for her, stretching his arms along the back of the sofa.

"And then it's Saturday," Hermione reminded him, scooting closer to him with a tentative glance.

He looked over at her and smiled leisurely. "That's right. We'll hardly be missed."

She finished scooting and snuggled against his side, tucking her head on his shoulder. His arm came away from the back of the sofa to curl about her shoulders.

"We'll hardly be missed," she agreed, sighing happily at his warmth and the contact.

Draco leant his head against hers and they continued to gaze out the window; watching the snow fall gently on the sleepy district while lights blinked on and off all over a city that was settling in against a cold front. He knew what she was doing, but it didn't bother him. If his problems got her to humor him once in a while, well. He was alright with that. The fact that his heart was beating a little faster at having her sitting next to him so intimately had nothing to do with his joy at facing an entire weekend off…with her. Nothing at all.

She made small noise and he looked down at her, curled against him, one hand gripping his sweater, curls falling across her face.

His heart raced.

* * *

To say that Snape was furious with him for taking the weekend away with Hermione was an understatement. More like…enraged. Possibly apoplectic.

It was almost hilarious.

"We came back on Sunday," Draco pointed out. "Got our homework finished. Made up for the work we missed and," he added gratuitously, "we still made Sunday dinner."

"That is NOT the point, you imbecile!" Snape roared at him, inasmuch as Snape ever roared at people. "You could have been followed! Stalked! Murdered in your beds, why, oh WHY do I always get saddled with the ones who think they know everything," Severus said in one breath before collapsing in his chair with his head in his hands.

Draco waited until the man had regained some of his normal color before commenting. "Isn't it the point to be followed and seen? So that people think we're together?"

Snape's color began to change again and Draco backed away. "Not that you're entirely wrong, sir, I just don't see why we shouldn't spend a little time together every now and then-"

"Spending time together is not the issue, Mister Malfoy, it's where you spend time together and flying off on a lark to someplace like that without consulting anyone is-"

"I sent owls," Draco objected. "And I sent some more once we knew what our plans were. If you had such a large problem with it why didn't you come and get us yourselves?"

"That is still not the point, Mister Malfoy-"

Draco's jaw dropped. "Dumbledore let us! He okayed it and told you to bugger off and stay out of our business, didn't he?"

Snape's color hovered dangerously around purple.

"Didn't he?" Draco insisted, stepping forward again, grinning like a madman.

Something that might have resembled "Dumbledore is an interfering old bugger" crossed Snape's lips and Draco crowed with glee.

"That's it, then. I'm out of here, unless you have something more constructive to say, you bat," Draco told Severus as he headed for the door.

"Just- try not to be so spontaneous next time, Draco, please," Snape pleaded.

Draco turned to look at him strangely and then broke into a smile as he hauled open the door to leave. "Why, Professor," he said sweetly, "I didn't know you cared."

By the time Snape found his voice again, the younger man was gone.

* * *

"So? How was your holiday?" Ginny asked, poking at Hermione's arm insistently. Hermione batted her hand away and frowned.

"Lovely. Now, isn't there something else to talk about? Quidditch? Anything?" Hermione asked, desperate for a change of subject. All anyone had done all week was make lewd hand gestures at her or kissing faces, boys and girls. Only the girls, at least, followed it up with questions about Paris and said things like, "how romantic!" in terribly breathy voices. And now it was a week and a half before exams and then break and all Hermione wanted was to study and revise in the library in peace. She had enough to think about, what with her impending visit to the manor and the fact that she now had- although it was small, which Madam Pomfrey had assured her was perfectly healthy for a girl of her age, size and activity- a baby bump. It was just one more physical sign of the tiny life growing inside her and she found it extremely unsettling. She couldn't imagine what it would be like once she felt it- her, she reminded herself. _Her_. At any rate, once she felt her kicking about.

Still…when Draco had cried on her shoulder over their weekend he'd laid his hand on her stomach, on her bump, ever so gently…so tenderly. She mimicked his actions then and smiled softly to herself.

Ginny snorted. "Earth to Hermione," she said, snapping her fingers, though she was smiling as well. "Not that you don't look awfully sweet doing that- it's enough to make a girl jealous, and I'm only fifteen!" Ginny rolled her eyes and Hermione looked up and laughed a little.

"Trust me, Gin, wait a while. There are a few perks…but mostly it's hellish."

Ginny noticed her friend's hands stayed splayed across her abdomen, however. She smiled again. "Well, then, if you're done revising, tell me all about it."

"Paris?" Hermione sighed. "Frustrating. Wonderful, but frustrating. I don't know where Draco will be from one minute to the next. He can be really sweet and kind, and thoughtful…but then he'd shut me out again and I can't get him to talk for minutes at a time."

"Ooo- whole minutes at a time?" Ginny teased and Hermione frowned.

"You know what? I don't think I am done revising- hand me that text, will you?" she said, voice brisk once again.

Ginny laughed and passed the book over. "Sure, Hermione. I'm sorry for teasing you. I know you're trying really hard to get through this."

Hermione eyed her, but didn't say anything and they went back to their studies until Ron arrived and dumped his books next to theirs.

"It's official," he announced. "I'm going to fail everything. Hermione-"

"No, Ron."

"Ginny-"

"Merlin, can't Harry even help you?"

Ron looked alarmed. "But- he told me to talk to you!"

Ginny frowned. "He what? I'm going to murder him. Excuse me, Hermione, Ron, I have something to take care of. Back in a bit." Hermione glanced up to see Ginny leave their table and walk away determinedly. She looked over at Ron at the same time he eyed her and they broke into laughter.

"Think Harry will stop and think before delegating like that again?" Ron whispered.

"Not a chance," Hermione responded, smiling.

"Me either," Ron agreed before breaking open his own books. "So, what's first?"

Hermione narrowed her eyes. "Potions. And before you go asking me to write something for you, I suggest you consider what Ginny might be doing to Harry."

"Who, me? Ask you to write my Potions essay? Hermione, how could you even suspect such a thing?" Ron asked melodramatically as Hermione snickered.

"Rather easily, I imagine," came a voice from behind him. Hermione shook her head and turned back to her books.

"Come to study with us, Draco?" she asked as Ron bristled beside her.

"I would," he began as he slid into the seat Ginny had just vacated, "but someone's in my seat."

Ron glared at him as Hermione flushed. "It's a free country, Malfoy. I'm not moving."

"Ron-"

"Now, now, Hermione. I wouldn't ask him to. Just merely stating a fact, earlier. I'll sit here until your friend comes back. That is, if you don't mind," he added, looking from one of them to the other. Noticing Hermione's cheeks were still pink. "Besides, I think I like this view better."

"Oh? Why's that?" Ron challenged, his voice rumbling in his chest.

Draco leaned forward in his seat and slid one of his feet between Hermione's and she looked up at him, startled. The pink in her cheeks darkened.

"It's easier to gaze into Hermione's eyes this way, of course," he said softly before reaching a hand across the table and taking her free hand.

Hermione flushed all the way to the roots of her hair and her lips fell open slightly before she looked back down at her book. "Don't be ridiculous, Draco," she muttered. But she didn't remove her hand from his.

Ron looked from one to the other, clearly struggling to keep the frown off his face when all he really wanted to do was pound Draco's face into the floor. Draco smiled at him and then flicked his glance over Hermione one last time before he opened up his own text book one handed and began to read. He was still holding Hermione's hand, his thumb rubbing the back of her hand lightly.

Ron thought he might be sick and thanked his lucky stars Ginny would be back soon and force the git to vacate his seat and leave them in peace. After all, even if he wasn't officially the father anymore, he was still the biological one. That should give him bonding rights with Hermione and the baby, shouldn't it? Right? It wasn't his fault if the sodding, miniature Death Eater had fallen in bloody love with the former love of his own life. Ron deserved to spend a little time with his would-be godchild. (Not that he'd bothered to ask Hermione her opinion on that subject, either.) Draco and Hermione seemed to ignore him easily enough, though, and the awkward trio studied in relative silence, but for the shuffling of feet and turning of pages.

Ginny, who had seen Draco lurking in the shadows and was now determined to do some lurking of her own with Harry, did not return to the table for a full two hours. When Ron demanded to know where she was that entire time, she only smiled mysteriously.

Harry didn't smile at all and it didn't occur to Ron to wonder when his friend had learned to blush that way.

* * *

**AN: Whew! Sorry the update took so long. I'll try to be better, promise. And for those who haven't read _The Better Claim_, it has just been nominated over at the Dramione Awards on Livejournal. You can help me get through the seconding process by voting for me starting in just a couple days. You don't have to be a member of the comm to vote, so no excuses! Unless you genuinely don't like the story. :) **


	18. Open the Window

**I do not own any part of Harry Potter! (Or even the basic Death Eater adoption plot, which is all Drivelicious', over on Granger Enchanted.) **

**AN: Sorry it's updating slower these days- I'm trying to get a few chapters written ahead every time. Also, I'm trying to be extra careful with the plot and characters so that they don't get out of control. Thanks for everyone who's sticking with me! Love!**

* * *

"Holidays at Malfoy Manor? Hermione, are you out of your-"

Hermione glared and shoved her books in her bag. "No, I am not out of my gourd, Harry. I'm pregnant and hormonal and Draco and his mother have been absolutely lovely to me and so yes, I am going to spend a few days with them over the break. It's his baby too, isn't it? Doesn't he have a right to spend some time with me?"

Harry eyed her doubtfully before reaching out and patting her hand awkwardly. "Well, if it's what you want…are you still going to try and come to the Burrow for a bit, too?"

Hermione shifted uncomfortably. She hadn't even been thinking of the Burrow, truth be told. She mostly wanted to get her visit to the Manor over with and then have a quiet rest at home. Besides, Molly Weasley had a sick nose for secrets. The batty woman, though Hermione loved her, would probably know something had gone on between her and Ron. She just couldn't take that risk.

"I don't know about it this year, Harry."

His face fell and he took his hand back before starting too put away his own books. "Too busy for us?" he asked quietly and Hermione shook her head.

"That's not it, Harry- fine, look, I'll see about coming over for at least a day, or something. I'll talk to my parents-"

"Don't do it just because you feel sorry for me," Harry grumbled.

"Harry!"

He sighed and put his hands over his face, taking off his glasses and rubbing at his eyes. "Sorry, Hermione. I'm sorry. I'm just really tired…I can't even look forward to the break."

"Is it- are you worried over what Dumbledore has asked you to do?"

"Yeah," he replied. "It's difficult…I don't know how to get that memory any more than I did at the start of the year and on top of that, this thing with Malfoy-"

Hermione stiffened. "What thing with Malfoy?"

Harry looked apologetic. "I'm sorry, Hermione. I know you…well, you sort of trust him, right?" He laughed nervously and Hermione raised her eyebrows at him. He coughed and glanced away. "I just can't yet. I support you, Hermione, I do. But he's been up to something recently."

Hermione pressed her lips together tightly and stared at him. She knew Harry was struggling with his own tasks this year, the same as Draco. In fact, the similarities between their burdens were eerie. Not that she knew what Draco's task was quite yet, aside from helping her, but she would find out, soon enough. At any rate, they were both suffering from trying to do the right thing and live up to people's perceptions and she would not have her best friend worrying about something he didn't need to.

"Harry, I know that Draco's generally a suspicious character, but if you trust me, you'll have to trust him, too. No, it's not easy, but he's- well, I know he's had several talks with Snape and Dumbledore already and if they both trust him, then you should, too. In fact, Dumbledore has-" she stopped short as she realized she'd been about to say some things she probably shouldn't.

Harry looked at her curiously. "Dumbledore what? And I feel I should point out," he added cheekily, "I hardly trust Snape, so his regard for Malfoy is not exactly going to make me like the git."

"Harry!" Hermione laughed, smacking his arm. The tension over the topic dissipated some and Harry grinned back at her. "Well, I can't say much, but I promise that Dumbledore supports Draco. He trusts him," she said firmly and Harry sighed.

"I know he does," he confessed. "I sort of asked him about it at our last meeting. He wouldn't say much either, just that, 'Mister Malfoy is working in his and Miss Granger's best interests, Harry,'" Harry said, wrinkling his brow in annoyance.

Hermione smiled with relief. "Well, there you are."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Doesn't make it any easier to accept, Hermione."

"I know. Do you think any of this easy for me, or Draco, for that matter?"

Harry eyed her stomach momentarily before glancing back up at her and flushing a little. His eyes were honest. "I don't suppose it is. I'm sorry for being a prat," he offered.

"Harry, you don't have to apologize for that. I got used to it a long time ago. Now, let's finish that Herbology essay and then we can turn it in and really get ready for the holidays." She pulled her scroll back out of her bag with a smile and Harry couldn't help smiling as well.

He didn't know where he got off having such a great best friend. He wondered briefly if he could talk to her about Ginny before deciding that she was quite serious about the essay. There would be time to talk later, after all, and he'd see her at the Weasleys for a _little_ bit, at least. They finished their work in companionable silence, interrupted only by the occasional whisper or smack on the arm.

It was nice to not think about anything but the holidays and his work, for once.

* * *

Hermione shifted uneasily in her seat on the train for the tenth time and Ginny shot her a strange look.

"What's wrong, Hermione?"

"Nothing…"

"Do you need the loo?" Ginny asked outright and Hermione laughed, suddenly feeling ridiculous.

"No, things aren't that bad yet," she admitted.

"Then what _is_ it?"

"I'm just nervous. We're meeting Draco's mother at the station and then it's-"

"Off to Malfoy Manor?"

"Yeah."

Ginny smiled reassuringly. "Hermione, I can't say we're not nervous about you being there by yourself, but what's the worst that can happen?" She cringed as Hermione cast wide eyes at her, looking suddenly panicked.

"Aside from his insane relatives suddenly dropping for a visit, or worse yet, the man himself? And what about-"

Ginny leaned forward. "Hermione, you're smarter than this. Stronger. You know that if anything like that were to happen, well, you are protected now. And I'm sure Malfoy would get you out of there if something happened."

"I know he would. You're right."

"We're all in danger, more than anyone is letting on," Ginny pointed out. "We all know it. It's driving Harry to a place I've never seen him in. About the only time he can let go is on the pitch anymore and that doesn't happen nearly often enough." Her face softened. "But you're right to be nervous, I imagine."

Hermione snorted and looked out the window of the train again. "You think so?"

Ginny lifted her eyes heavenward and leaned back into her own seat once again. "You're as bad as Malfoy with that sarcasm," she muttered.

"Sorry," Hermione said automatically.

"Don't be," Ginny replied. "At least you're showing signs of life. Which is more than I can say for some of us," she added with a pointed look glance at Ron's sprawled out, sleeping form. "God, I wish he'd just shove off and go find Brown again. At least that keeps him out of sight." Seeing Hermione's frown, she changed the subject. "Hey, Dumbledore gave you that portkey, didn't he? In case of emergencies. You'll be doubly safe, then. Look, just try to enjoy yourself. It's only a few days, right? Then you're home for Christmas."

"True," Hermione admitted. "Thanks for talking me down," she told Ginny. "It's hard not to be on edge with everything. This one isn't helping much, that's for certain," she said with a fond, if a bit frustrated, glance at her stomach.

Ginny laughed. "I expect not. Lord, Mum is dying to see you. I think she's not sure whether to give you a piece of her mind or coddle you and your ickle baby," she grinned.

"Oh, gods, they all know, don't they?" Hermione groaned. "Well, at least the governors are being quiet. No one has been quite as terrible about the whole thing as they might otherwise. That's one good thing that's come out of all the tension."

"Sure, try saying that to Katie Bell," Ginny murmured soberly and the girls looked at each other grimly before glancing out the window once more.

Harry entered the compartment soon after that and their conversation fell to what they were expecting for Christmas and how much homework they had. The rest of the trip passed relatively comfortably and Draco stopped by minutes before the train arrived at the station to collect her. They'd agreed to sit with their own friends- they didn't want to appear as a clingy couple and besides, Draco needed to play nice with his bunch. He'd been mostly ignoring them the entire semester because of the tasks and he needed to stay on their good sides in order to make his double role believable. Besides, it was terribly hard to monitor the rumor mill when he wasn't even paying attention to what people were saying.

She stood up immediately and tried to ignore the scowl from Ron; and the apprehensive look from Harry; and instead hugged Ginny; wishing them all a Happy Christmas after delivering a vague line about seeing them at some point. Draco stood in the doorway looking supremely smug and uncomfortable at the same time and then he took her trunk and lugged it down the corridor with her following after.

"Where's yours?" she asked and he looked back.

"In my own compartment. We'll be at the platform in just a moment, I'll get it then. I wanted to get yours first," he explained.

She didn't ask anymore questions after that, just thanked him in a small voice; and when they disembarked she stood on the platform with her luggage looking forlorn and more and more as though she might be ill; while she waited for him to join her with his own trunk. She'd owled her parents the week of exams to let them know she wouldn't be home for the first days of break and that they needn't pick her up at the station. Her mom had written back immediately saying they understood and hoped she would have a good time and to _be careful_. Hermione's face had flushed at that line; honestly, what did her mother think she would be doing at Malfoy's? Shagging him? Draco had been right, she hated to admit. Just because she was already knocked up didn't mean she _ought_ to go about having sex again. Although the thought of it with Malfoy…

She was shaken from her deviant path by someone calling her name and she realized Draco had returned to her side and was waving at someone walking towards them. Ah, his mother. Narcissa Malfoy looked, although tired around the edges, as put together and professional as she ever had.

Hermione's nerves returned tenfold.

"Hermione- Draco, darling," Narcissa said as she gave them both a brief hug and kiss on the cheek. "Well, shall we?" she asked, clapping her hands together. And then they were off the platform and through the station and being bundled into the most ostentatious cab that Hermione had ever seen; and she thought she really would be sick, although Narcissa was doing her best to put them at ease. She talked nonstop from the moment she ordered their bags along to the minute the car pulled up in front of the gates of the manor. For one wild minute, Hermione thought they might have detoured by a zoo, instead and she poked Draco in the side until he glanced over at her.

"What?" he asked, arching a brow at her and she pointed out the window.

"Peacocks?" she asked, her voice hushed as Narcissa continued to talk. Her face said the rest. _Are you for real? Is your whole family mental?_

"They're Father's," Draco replied, clearly uncomfortable. He flicked his eyes over to his mother and back at her. _And I should think us being mental is quite obvious, you bint_.

Hermione ulped and looked back out the window as they passed through the gates, her eyes on the creepy, but beautiful birds the entire ride up the drive. She didn't ask anymore questions.

* * *

Hermione was startled to see Draco standing there when she opened her door. Not because she thought there was someone in the house besides him and his mother, but because she'd assumed that once he'd seen her settled in her rooms he'd want to leave her alone. True to his word, he'd put her in an entire wing; something she'd been terribly upset about when she'd first arrived. After all, it had meant the house elves had needed to do more work- and all for one person. It seemed ridiculous to her, but she understood why he'd done it. She knew he wasn't all bad- she _knew _it, especially after the weekend they'd shared- but she could understand him wanting to keep up appearances. After all, things were still touch and go with people finding out about the pregnancy, and getting their story unified…except now he was standing in front of her, a small frown upon his face and hope in his eyes and she couldn't help herself.

Her heart skipped a beat and a pink blush spread across her cheeks.

She threw up a minute later, of course, but the signs were clear enough. She was in terrible danger of falling in love with him, exactly as Ginny had joshed her and Ron had spat fire over.

"Granger!" Draco growled even as he was spelling the vomit away, "Can't you even make it to the toilet? Damn. If I upset you that much, I'll just leave."

Hermione managed to recover herself quickly, though one hand remained over her mouth. Her other arm shot out and she grasped his arm just as he was turning. He stilled and looked back at her as he put his wand away.

"What?"

"You can stay. For a minute, if you want," she mumbled through her fingers and stepped back, allowing him into the suite. He looked behind her into the darkened room and smiled nervously.

"Alright. For a minute."

She shut the door behind him and the shadows about them deepened. She heard him chuckle.

"Haven't even bothered to light the lamps yet, have you? You could have done that yourself. The house elves will beat you to it if you don't hurry."

She lowered her hand and walked over to an armchair, taking a seat. Her face was white even in the vast darkness of the room. "You didn't come for a visit. What is it? Has your mother come to her senses?"

He started to sneer and walked away from her to the fireplace, careful to keep his back to her. It wouldn't do to let his natural feelings get the better of him. After all, they were only a defense against what was really going on: his falling in love with her. He knelt and kindled a fire, spelling it to life quietly.

"Don't be ridiculous. My mother is mad about you, for some strange reason. Can't think why. And I came to invite you to dine with us this evening. If you have anything suitable to wear. Are your clothes still fitting you? I should have asked sooner, sorry."

Hermione gave a small, gasping laugh and hunched over in her seat. "I'm not an invalid. You don't have to keep asking after me that way."

He finally trusted himself to keep a neutral, easy grin on his face and turned his head to look at her before he stood up, brushing his palms against the robes he still wore. "You're in my care now, Granger. You have been for several weeks. Didn't our outing teach you anything? Besides, we have quite a ways to go before this relationship will be believable."

"I don't understand why we couldn't have left it as it was. You hate me, I hate you- in muggle circles, that's considered perfectly natural foreplay."

Draco tried to ignore the fact that she'd just implied she still hated him and crossed the room to the armchair beside hers.

"But we don't hate each other…"

"Don't we?"

"Speak for yourself, Hermione," he murmured, causing her to give him a sharp look. She didn't hate him at all, she thought she'd made that much obvious. But she was still unsure of him, despite everything she'd said to Harry about trust.

She gave him a level stare. "You really think our having a _loving _relationship will induce Voldemort to believe our story?"

"Don't say his name aloud in this house, for the love of Merlin!" Draco barked, turning and grasping Hermione's shoulders. She drew back from him and shrugged his hands off.

"Sorry," he flushed. "Old habits. I apologize."

"There, you've done it again," she said softly.

"What?"

"You want to talk to me about something- about your involvement in the Death Eaters, or I'll eat my homework. Why won't you just come out and say it? I happen to be a very good listener."

"And the smartest witch of your age, blah, blah," he finished for her. "I can't. And trust me, it's better if you don't know."

"Why not? I can help, Draco. I know I can!"

He eyed her speculatively. "How have your sessions with Snape been lately?"

She blushed and looked away before rising to go to her trunk. "Not good. You know that. It's so hard to control it when my emotions are haywire."

"Exactly. I wish I could tell you, I swear. But it's too dangerous."

She sent him another sharp glance. Things would be so much easier if she just knew…if she could be sure of him. If she knew that helping her, being with her, was helping him, too. Was changing him. "You're really trying to protect me, aren't you?"

He pulled his head back around the curve of the chair, startled, and stared into the fire. He was quiet for several seconds while Hermione stood at her trunk, one hand still poised to raise the lid. She finally broke the silence. Clearly, she'd touched on a subject he wasn't ready to acknowledge yet. That was fine. One weekend in Paris and some heated kisses didn't mean they loved each other. They had another six months to discuss their emotions, after all.

"Draco?" she asked. She saw his shoulders jump and smiled.

"Hm."

"What does one wear to dinner at Malfoy Manor?"

* * *

At dinner, Hermione could see what Draco meant about Narcissa. She practically cooed over Hermione- it was rather uncomfortable, actually, but Hermione supposed it was because she'd always wanted a daughter…or perhaps she'd just made a very good first impression at the meal a few weeks back. Either way, it was still a little strange. Especially considering that Narcissa probably wouldn't have been trying half so hard if she knew the truth. If she _knew _that the baby wasn't Draco's, Hermione was sure her reactions and pleasantries would be going quite differently. Not that Hermione had been reminding herself of the child's paternity recently. She'd had to admit Draco was right and she did need to forget, at least for a while, about Ron. She had to put all her skills to use in the performance of her life. The performance _for _hers and the baby's lives.

She didn't know, of course, about Draco changing sides or that Narcissa was pleased with her son's decision, but even if she had known she probably still would've questioned their sanity. After all, a Malfoy being nice to a muggle born, carrier of the heir or not, was downright bizarre. There was definitely something strange going on betwixt the mother and son, or she'd eat her dessert. Well, she was planning on eating her dessert anyway, but still. With a determined poke at the crème brûlée on her plate, she decided she was going to make this a successful, if nerve-wracking, visit. She was going to find out once and for all what was going on with Draco. If she was able to trust him even a little, then he was going to have to trust her.

The crème brûlée was divine.


	19. The Air Is Still

**Do not own Harry Potter at all. So sad. **

**AN: I think I mentioned in an AN already, but The Better Claim was nominated over at the Dramione Awards, if you'd like to check it out and then go vote for me. The stories with the most seconding votes go on to the finals. I'd love to make the finals, if you're so inclined. Love you all! ALSO, before you go off about Hermione being a b****, I'm just making drama. Remember she's hormonal and pregnant and terrified. She'll come around, no worries. I want her to get with Draco as badly as you all do. XD **

* * *

Dinner was over soon enough and Hermione excused herself to go back to her wing. Narcissa seemed a bit disappointed and said so.

"Are you sure you wouldn't care for a game of wizards' chess, dear? Or perhaps some exploding snap? I so rarely get a whist partner, you know." The older witch smiled endearingly, hopefully, and Hermione felt bad.

"Er," she said. Trust the Malfoys to keep a game like whist alive. "I'm just feeling a bit tired, especially after exams all last week."

"Oh, of course," Narcissa replied. "How could I forget. And in your fragile condition. Go on to bed, then dear. There will be time for games tomorrow. Perhaps even helping me put up our tree. Wouldn't that be fun?"

Hermione smiled back at her genuinely. "That would, actually. Well, good night." She gave Draco a small wave as well, though he essentially ignored her, and then she was heading up the stairs only to promptly get lost. She decided she'd better try and backtrack if she wanted to leave the manor alive.

* * *

The doorbell rang right after she'd left and Draco started to get up, only to have Narcissa give him a sharp look.

"The house elves will get it, dear."

"Oh. Right." He shook his head and she leaned towards him.

"Why didn't you give your young woman a proper good night, dear?"

He shrugged. "Just giving her some space," he responded easily. "She probably wants it right now."

"Hmm," his mother said and stood up. "Well, I'm going to the parlor to see who our guest is."

But there was no need to leave the dining room, as a dark figure swept in the doors.

"Darling Cissy!" cooed a voice and Draco went very, very still. So did Narcissa, though she recovered nicely and gave her sister a warm hug.

"Bellatrix! What an unexpected…surprise!" Narcissa's voice was full of false cheer.

"And…Draco. How is my darling nephew?" the witch cooed again, leaning over his chair. He tried not to flinch from her grasp. Master of Occlumancy or not, he was in no mood to deal with his insane family. Not to mention, he was suddenly terrified for Hermione, who was right upstairs, unprotected, while his crazy aunt was under the same roof.

"Draco…" Bellatrix whispered. "I hear you've been a very busy boy, indeed."

He shook her off and stood up. "I have no idea-"

"Do not lie to me!" she howled and Narcissa was suddenly at her side, arms about her.

"Bellatrix, please, not in my home. Let's all act like the adults we are."

The other witch gave a stiff nod, though she cast a baleful glare at Draco. Narcissa let her go, still nervous, though she could see her sister was desperately trying to control herself. Draco had stepped to the other side of the room, keeping the table between himself and his aunt. His expression hovered somewhere between disdain and fear. Narcissa wondered…

"Why don't I go get us some refreshments?" she said, only to have Bellatrix pin her with a scowl.

"Cissy, you know that's elves' work. Why don't you sit? Why don't we all sit again?" She suited her words with action and pulled out a chair. She plopped into it girlishly, crossing her legs and leaning her arms on the table, propping her head on one hand. The other hand twirled her wand about idly.

"How is the mission to kill the old bastard going, Draco, love?"

"Is that why you're here?" he shot back. "To check up on me?"

"Well it's not as if we can reach you at school," Bella replied snidely.

"We?" Draco repeated and glanced at her sharply.

"Oh, your master dares not come here, not yet. It's just me…though I know you would love to see him, wouldn't you, Draco? You have so much to discuss with him…so many things to explain."

Draco cast a desperate glance at his mother. What was Bella doing here? This Christmas Break had suddenly taken a drastic turn for the worse and he felt rather sick.

Keep it together, Draco, he told himself and his hand slipped into his pocket, gripping his own wand tightly. He just had to stay on his toes, keep his guard up. There was no telling what his insane aunt would do and he had a woman and a child to protect, at any cost.

"And he expects me to discuss those things with you, instead?" Draco laughed, bluffing confidence. "As if I would. You're just being nosy, aren't you? Can't stand that I might have actually sullied our family line, is that it? Came to see if it's true, yourself."

"You know our lord will-"

"No, he won't. He won't do anything. He gave me a mission and gave me full leave to do whatever I must in order to accomplish his goals. You know that. So that means you're here strictly for your own, selfish purposes."

"No mud blood will ever bear the name of Black!"

"No? Well fortunately it's the name of Malfoy she'll bear, then."

"You intend to marry such a perversion?"

"If it helps me achieve my ends, yes."

Draco stared Bellatrix down, shoulders back, head up. Eyes cold and competent. Two could play at that game. Bella eventually relaxed and sat back.

"Well, well…it seems he was right to trust you, then. You're willing to risk anything, aren't you? All for the death of one old man…"

Draco didn't bother responding, just took a sip of the brandy an elf had placed before them all. He wanted to choke as it burned its way down his throat, but he swallowed hard and kept his eyes open and dry. He smiled across the table and lifted his glass.

"Cheers, Aunt Trixie."

Bellatrix sneered, but lifted her own glass as well.

"You will regret this, Draco," she hissed.

"Regret what? Serving my master faithfully?"

Bella had nothing to say to that, short of being sacrilegious about the man she loved and served just as faithfully- more faithfully than Draco, really, but he wasn't about to let her know that.

"Well, are you done here, Aunt?" Draco said sweetly after another long moment of hard stares and silence.

Her expression changed swiftly and Draco heard his mother gasp. Whatever was going on, Narcissa knew what her sister was up to. He turned his attention back to his aunt.

"Actually, Draco, darling, I was hoping I could meet your gold-digging, goody-goody girlfriend."

"Excuse me?" He raised one delicate brow at her and she smiled sweetly. It made him want to vomit.

"Oh, please. I know she's here, the tart. Let me meet her, please, dear Draco? I promise to be good…I just need to see for myself that she's not going to turn our family name on its ear…"

Draco refrained from pointing out that she had done that quite well, all on her own.

"You will never come within three feet of Hermione Granger or my child," he said quietly.

"Draco, dear, perhaps now is not the time-"

Bellatrix held up a hand and practically growled at her sister. "Let him speak, Cissy!" She turned back to Draco. "And why not?" she hissed again. "Scared I'll see through this falsehood?"

"It is no falsehood," he replied, feeling strangely calm. And it wasn't- well, the fact that he was beginning to wish he was the real father, was starting to feel like he should have been the one to get Hermione in all this mess- those things weren't false. The emotions he held for her now weren't false…and it was those things that made him the father of her baby. He lifted his eyes to his aunt's and smiled coolly.

"Don't forget that she is protected, dear Aunt," he murmured.

Bella leaned back and relaxed again. "Of course she is, the trollop. Well, if you won't let me see her now, I'll just be on my way. I can see I'm not welcome in my own family's house."

"Oh, Bella-" Narcissa began, but Bellatrix waved a hand impatiently and stood.

"Not you, darling sister. I'll see you again when my ungrateful nephew is back at school with his whore."

Narcissa cast a sad glance at Draco, who sat firmly in place, arms crossed, a stony look upon his face. Bella paused at the door and tuned back suddenly, agitated again.

"Why her? After what she and her friends did- putting your own father in prison to suffer torture- how can you possibly stand to be anywhere near trash like that?"

Draco turned his head, inspected his wand, gave a few experimental flicks, sending some deadly sparks crackling through the air.

"I don't expect you to understand the subtly of my revenge, Aunt Trixie," he responded and glanced up at her. "Weren't you leaving?"

A wild grin spread across her face and she began to howl with mad laughter. Just as quickly she cut it off and turned one crazy eye to him.

"You do your family proud, Draco. Kisses, love. I'll see you soon."

Then she was gone, Narcissa following her to make sure she actually left. Draco waited a few ticks, then slumped down in his chair, though the cold, dispassionate glare remained upon his features. He drew one hand down his face, as if he could wipe away the feel of acting so evil. Then he stood and made his way out the other door, towards the stairs. He'd just reached the foot of them when a small noise caught his ear and he turned to look. There was a small motion in the shadows and he called the name of one of the elves.

"Moppy?"

Hermione wandered a few steps forward into the light instead and his heart stopped. A look of horror was etched upon her face.

"You…I was just lost, trying to get back to my room," Hermione managed to say. Then she kept talking.

"So you do have a mission…to kill someone? Is it- no, I don't think I want to know who it is. I think I can guess that well enough- old man…Draco, you can't…was all that true?"

He took a step towards her and she moved away as if he was poison.

"Well? Is it? This is just revenge? And to get you closer to Dumbledore? It is, isn't it?" she breathed.

"Hermione-" His voice broke on the last syllable and she glared at him, tears in her eyes.

"Don't! Just tell me- tell me the truth!"

But Draco couldn't speak. Hermione glared at him for a full minute and then she ran. Past him, up the stairs, into the darkness of a manor she didn't know, just to be away from him.

Draco turned and tried to grab her, but she moved too quickly and he suddenly felt sluggish and awful.

"Hermione!" he called. "It's not true! I swear it's not true!"

His words died away in the darkness and no one answered him, not even his mother. He swore and took the stairs two at a time. He had to find her, had to explain. It was time to tell her everything, because there would be no perfect chance anymore. His insane aunt had taken that from him as well. In fact, he wouldn't be surprised if she'd known Hermione had been listening…not that he thought she was that subtle. He swore again and doubled his pace, his long legs covering the ancient halls of his family home not nearly fast as he'd like, his voice calling Hermione's name again and again.

* * *

Hermione huddled against the window seat looking out over the dimly lit, snow covered hedges and gardens in back of the manor. She tried to quiet her snuffling with her sleeve, except the material wasn't right for stopping a runny nose…and if anyone's nose was running, hers was. She'd been bawling like a little girl, long silent sobs wracking her diaphragm until she thought she might see the crème brûlée again. She knew she was making herself ill, but she couldn't help it. To think she'd trusted Draco, trusted his motives. Trusted her lips to his, trusted her heart in his hands- or at least, she'd begun to. They'd had such a lovely time the last few weeks, especially with that weekend in Paris…she'd thought she was finally getting to know the real him. Oh, but now she wanted to sink into a hole and _die_, she felt like such a gigantic fool. Even more of a fool than she had over Ron and getting pregnant in the first place.

What was she thinking? Harry had been right the whole time, hadn't he. She sniffled some more, wiped her face again. She was so confused and upset she couldn't even properly transfigure a handkerchief so she didn't ruin the sleeves of her dress. Malfoy _bloody _manor. What was she doing here? Of course, Dumbledore had given her a portkey, hadn't he? For just such emergencies as these. And if she really wanted to she was sure she could easily floo to the Burrow, or something…but her feet wouldn't move. She swung her legs over the edge of the seat and stood up, but still she couldn't make herself walk to her room. There was a tiny sliver of doubt about the entire situation that bound her ankles together and glued her feet to the floor.

Buck up, Hermione, she told herself. You have another life to think of beside your own. So what if Draco is the father on paper and everywhere else but blood? If he thinks he can double cross Hermione Jean Granger and get away with it…

That did it. Her feet finally moving, she marched herself straight to her room. Only once she got there, she couldn't make herself pick up the portkey. Couldn't make herself use it, even once she'd slipped it from the pouch.

"Argh!" she exclaimed, frustrated and still quite weepy, and floated the portkey back into its pouch for safe keeping. What was wrong with her? Was she actually, maybe, possibly in…in _love_ with that ferrety, good for nothing, lying sack of Slytherin, Death Eater _rubbish_ whose home she was staying in?

She exclaimed again for good measure and was about to slide the portkey back out and _force_ herself to use it this time, by golly, when her eyes fell on the lovely Parisian jacket.

In seconds the jacket was being shredded into itty-bitty pieces. She was about to set fire to it when a small noise made her look up from her handy-work.

"Oh, Draco," she remarked, quite calmly. She was feeling a bit better now that she'd taken out some of her aggression. "How nice of you to call on me."

He eyed the jacket- still being meticulously shredded, the whole time- and took a deep breath.

"Yes, well…I looked for you everywhere else I could before I thought of-"

"Checking the room you gave me? How clever of you to think of it. Of course a filthy _mudblood _like me wouldn't normally be in a guest room above stairs, would she? More likely to find the knocked up, unworthy girlfriend below stairs in the maid's quarters, right?"

"Oh, Hermione…" he groaned and sank to his knees beside her, tugging the remains of the beautiful coat from her hands. "I'm sorry," he said. "I'm so sorry."

She got up and retreated a fair distance from him.

"Sorry for what? For making a fool of me and my baby? For using me? For plotting to kill one of the best men this bloody world has to offer?"

He shook his head. "Hermione, let me explain, please."

She crossed her arms, sniffed a few times and turned her back on him. "Go ahead. You can try."

"Alright," he murmured. He stood as well, still clutching the ruined fabric. "Hermione, I…yes, I was given a mission this year. A hard mission. A terrible one. But I'm not…you are just going to have to trust me that I'm not going to…"

"Complete it? Is it all a sham, then?" She turned her head slightly, as though she wanted a response, expected the right one.

"You have to trust me, Hermione. If I could say anymore without endangering you and the baby, I would-"

She whirled about at that, started crying again, though they were tears of rage. He was surprised at how violently his heart reacted to that sight…how much he wanted to hold her, make the source of her tears die a thousand deaths.

Oh, wait. That would be him.

He settled for holding his hands out to her, instead, and dropped the jacket. She cried harder.

"You don't get to say things like that!" she exclaimed, angry as a slighted hippogriff. "You don't! You've endangered me just by agreeing to all this- by bringing me here, under the same roof as that insane woman- you know she tried to kill me last year? She tried to kill all of us! She would love nothing better than to see me and my baby _dead_!"

"Hermione, I know, but I can't- this is the best thing. She didn't stay, she's gone, I won't let her hurt you. You know you're protected-"

"What sort of protection is this? When that woman can come here, taunt you, insult me- when half the people who are sworn to protect me and this baby _hate _me?"

Draco found that he was just sixteen, after all, and was losing patience, as much as his heart hurt.

"This is best and you know it," he said. "Where would you be if you'd come out about the truth? Do you think your friends could keep you safe at that school? You think anyone could? They can't. No one can, not anymore, not after what I-" he stopped short suddenly, face aghast.

All the blood drained from Hermione's face and she turned back around.

"Hermione, I didn't mean-"

"I don't care what you meant, anymore," she answered quietly. "If you can't tell me the whole truth, if you can't trust me the way I've trusted you, then there's nothing more to say."

Draco grit his teeth and fought the urge to throw something. Instead, he turned and stalked from the room, muttering a quiet spell as he went. The door slammed shut after him and Hermione stayed where she was for several seconds before turning around to look after him. Her eyes immediately found the reason for the quiet incantation.

There on a chair lay the lovely emerald coat, knitting itself back together seamlessly, not a rent in sight. She teared up again, stomped her foot and a loud expletive filled the empty space.


	20. Hands On the Sill

**I don't own Harry Potter at all! Blaaah.**

**AN: So, the story moves along. Love you all! Kisses! Mwahmwahmwah! *molests all her readers with hugs* I have a few chapters written ahead so things are going well in that department. After the next few chapters go up I'll skip a month or so ahead in the story, but it will happen tastefully. Trust me, you're not missing anything other than mushy gushy Hermione-baby and Draco-Hermione crap. (And there's already plenty to be had of that, isn't there?) **

* * *

Draco swore under his breath as he stalked the halls of Malfoy Manor, on his way back to the safety of his own rooms. He couldn't believe things had gone to shit so quickly- Hermione had been his, eating from the palm of his hand for a few blissful days- hours, really- and now he'd have to start over. If he even wanted to bother. He felt like for every step forward he took with her, she sent him back an extra five, just for being himself. For things that weren't his fault. He couldn't tell her the truth! Not now, not when she didn't have a prayer of passing her Occlumency lessons. Why couldn't she just bloody trust him? He'd been beyond good to her and her half-blood, unborn brat. He'd been good and trustworthy and he was risking his own life, his family's lives, ten times over for her. Yet with a single look she could reduce all of that to nothing. It was so-

"Unfair!" he finally bit off aloud.

Then he hunched his shoulders and a sob ripped from his throat.

"Draco, darling?" came Narcissa's soft voice and Draco spun about, wiped at his face hurriedly. Narcissa moved towards him. "Oh, Draco."

She folded her arms about him without a word and he rested his head on her shoulder, let himself cry for another moment.

"It's too much, Mother," he gasped out and his shoulders shook some more.

Narcissa ran a hand over his back soothingly and kissed his head. "I know it is, my darling boy," she murmured. "You're too young for this. You both are."

His shaking stopped finally and she placed her hands on his shoulders and held him away, took a good look at his face. One hand came up and wiped his cheek tenderly before returning to his shoulder.

"Now, tell me all about it."

Draco looked at his mother with a mixture of relief and regret. She could always make him feel better, about anything. As much as he adored his father, longed for his respect and notice, it was his mother who'd seen to every scrape and heartache.

"Hermione," he began, and stopped.

"Your young lady?"

He shook his head. "I don't know. I know what all this looks like, but I don't know how she feels. One minute she's grateful and smiling and the next she insists I'm keeping secrets and won't speak to me."

"And are you?"

He raised a brow at her. She smiled coolly, touched his cheek again. He pulled away.

"Of course you are. You're your father's son. Secrets are second nature. But you have to understand her point of view, darling. She doesn't have any secrets, now. In her condition, in the time she's living, secrets could kill her."

Draco refrained from snorting at the irony of the situation and crossed his arms instead.

"Some secrets need to be kept."

"And some need to be told. Is this about your…status?" Narcissa asked, phrasing the question of his double-agency carefully. He shrugged, but it was enough for her to guess the rest. "She wants to know everything? She…oh my. She heard Bellatrix."

"She did," Draco replied quietly. He looked back up at his mother, the question plain in his eyes.

Narcissa pressed her lips together. "Let me talk to her first. You'll still need to explain a few things, but I suspect this discussion will go better if I smooth some ruffled feathers."

"I shouldn't have to say anything at all!" Draco finally exclaimed. "I've been more than good to her this whole time- she knows what's being done for her-"

"She's pregnant, not much older than you, and likely terrified out of her mind, Draco," Narcissa responded immediately. "In the space of two months you've both undergone major changes to your characters and ideologies. You can't expect these things to go smoothly, no matter how many nice coats you buy her, or how often you kiss her in a broom closet." She smiled softly. "You both need to have more patience with one another at this point in your lives than the average married couple will see in twenty years. I know it's hard, darling," Narcissa said, hugging Draco again. "But give her another chance, please. Let me talk to her."

Draco relaxed some in his mother's embrace and finally shrugged again.

"Fine," he said, when they'd separated. "Go talk to the bint. I'll be in my room." He turned and resumed his stalking in the direction of his rooms.

Narcissa watched him go, a worried expression on her face. Then she went to find the girl who was turning her son's life upside down…rather, the girl for whom her son seemed willing to turn his life upside down.

* * *

Hermione was sitting in one of the arm chairs, watching the fire as it flickered and danced. Her eyes were quite dry and her hands were still and calm. She felt better now that she'd had a tantrum and she'd been doing quite a bit of thinking- about her baby, about Draco, about Ron, about Harry's mysterious tasks…about Draco's horrific tasks.

She knew what she was going to do now, at least. Or keep doing, rather. She was going to hold her head high and ignore people who stared and whispered. She was going to continue to be the best student and witch Hogwarts had ever seen. She was going to study and work hard to be the best young mother the wizarding world- or any world, for that matter- had ever seen. And she would do it all at Draco Malfoy's side, since it was the only way now to protect her baby. At least, that was true until her baby was born, in which case she would think of something else. But for the sake of the baby's safety, she could live with him for now.

He had done a lot for her so far, and she could be grateful for it. She could be dignified about it. But she didn't have to accept his bullheaded garbage about what she could and could not handle. She would work twice as hard at Occlumency. She would show him. She would prove that not only was she trustworthy, she was safe, too.

It wasn't so much that she was angry at him because he thought she was a stupid Gryffindor who'd managed to get herself knocked up. No, he could think that all he liked. She was angry because he had been so wonderful. And yet there was evidence that maybe he wasn't as trustworthy as she'd thought. And if the only thing that kept him from proving that he'd meant all his previous actions; all the sweet, kind things he'd said and done for her; was the fact that she couldn't call herself an occlumens to save her life (literally), well. She would fix that. And if he still wouldn't share the truth with her after that, then she'd have her answer. She'd know that he'd been using her all along.

She was thinking so hard about it all that she didn't hear Narcissa open the door and glide into the room. When the older witch took a seat across from her, she nearly jumped from her skin. Collapsing back against the chair, she gaped at Narcissa, one hand on her chest.

"You frightened me!"

"I'm sorry, my dear. You really must be on your toes more in our household. Strange things do happen from time to time."

Hermione merely nodded and then turned back to the fire. She bit her lip. Should she ask, or shouldn't she?

"I spoke to Draco," Narcissa offered.

Ah. Well, that answered that question. Hermione looked at her again, curiosity burning in her brown orbs. Narcissa smiled gently.

"He'll be fine." Hermione didn't quite relax at that, as a flicker of uncertainty passed Narcissa's face. "He has, after all, seen worse," she continued softly. "As I'm sure you have."

Hermione looked away. "Of course. I know this year must be hard for him." She shifted uncomfortably. After all, it had been even harder for her when she'd been battling the woman's husband and relatives for her life and the lives of her friends. She sincerely hoped Narcissa didn't bring _that_ up, though. It was awkward enough, being in the same house.

Narcissa watched her quietly a moment. "I don't know exactly what happened between you and my son," she finally began, "and I don't really want to know. But the bottom line is that you have a baby to worry about now, regardless of how you feel."

"I know that," Hermione said sharply.

"Yes, but you're treating my son as if he's a criminal."

"He _is_, technically," Hermione bit off and her cheeks turned red, but she didn't apologize. Narcissa's face grew pinched.

"You knew my son was a Death Eater when you slept with him- you must have. No glamour charm can hide that thing. His status was good enough for you then, wasn't it?"

Hermione didn't say anything to that- what could she say? Nothing, unless she wanted to kill them all. So she bit the inside of her cheek and continued to look anywhere but at the other witch. Besides, Narcissa was right about that much. When she'd signed on for this scheme she'd known what Draco was. When she'd let him kiss her so sweetly in Paris she'd known. Why should it make any difference now? With a start she looked up and realized Narcissa had been asking her the same question.

"Hermione, are you paying attention?"

"I'm sorry," she answered immediately. "I am."

"I know you have a lot to think about, and more than your share of things to be upset about. But Draco wants to give things another chance. He doesn't want you to shut him out of your lives."

Hermione's face softened some. "That's good to know."

"But if it's Occlumency you're having difficulty with, I'd like to help. I agree with him, that he has to know whatever information he gives you is safe from prying eyes and spells."

"It already is-"

"Blind trust isn't always enough and you're far too smart a witch to pretend it is. Now, do you want my help or not?"

"I've already been taking lessons from Professor Snape," Hermione responded. "If he can't teach me-"

"Tut, tut," Narcissa interrupted again. "He's a man. You're a woman. You think differently, you approach life differently. I can promise you, good man though he is, Severus Snape will never be able to teach you Occlumency with any success."

Hermione pondered this, decided it made sense, and then wondered if that meant Harry was actually a woman. Her mouth quirked upwards and she stifled the laughter that bubbled up in her throat.

"Alright," she said, speaking directly. "I'm game."

"Good. You have the rest of the week with us- let's make it worthwhile, shall we?"

The two witches shook hands on it- both secretly relieved the other hadn't gone in for a hug- and Narcissa started in on Hermione's first lesson.

"But what about your after-dinner game?"

"It's rather difficult to play whist with myself, Hermione," Narcissa replied. "Besides, this is more important. The sooner you master this- and I doubt it will take you much time, once you've grasped the key differences- the sooner you and Draco can start spending time together, as you ought."

Hermione didn't say much to that, merely wrinkled her nose and hoped she wasn't blushing too hard. Somehow, she didn't think the amount of time she and Draco spent together was the problem.

"Now, let me guess what dear Severus has been telling you- that you must close your mind, make it impenetrable- that in order to master it, you have to hide your feelings and never wear them on your sleeve. That in order to gain any skills at all you must learn to block your feelings entirely, at least as you are first learning." She paused and lifted her nose snootily in the air, imitating Snape, and quoted, "'Only the most skilled occlumens are capable of picking and choosing the emotions and memories they betray to the other party.'"

Hermione snickered at Narcissa's mimicry and then bit her lip, nodding. "Spot on."

"But partly because of your pregnancy and partly because you're a girl, your heart is everywhere but firmly in your chest and every single thought is plainly upon your face."

Hermione nodded again and sighed this time. "I've tried everything- meditation, more meditation, all of his techniques-"

"Yelling 'Clear your mind!' at a student over and over is not a technique, darling, it's verbal assault." Narcissa waited for Hermione to stop laughing at that before she went on. "So you've tried everything short of mind altering drugs. Well, you haven't tried this. The key, my dear girl, is to use those very things- melodrama, irrational emotion, and the propensity to great love- in order to shield yourself."

Hermione sat up a little straighter and stared at Narcissa. "Shield…myself?"

"That's right. You use the things that men see as a disadvantage to gain the upper hand. If your memories are buried under an overwhelming mess of incoherent babble and anxiety, do you think the Dark Lord- or any other man, for that matter- has the wherewithal or desire to go digging through it in order to find a single grain of truth? No. He'll simple see it and say, 'She's a hysterical woman, just like every other woman on earth,' and be done with it."

Hermione nibbled her lip a little more. "It can't possibly be as simple as all that."

Narcissa sat back and summoned a now cold tea cup over, took a sip and made a face at the offending beverage. She waved her wand and heated the liquid again before taking another sip. This time her face settled into a pleased smile.

"I'm telling you, dear, it is that simple."

Hermione shook her head. "But what about-"

"If you want to present only certain information, use the strength of your emotions to down play the other area you're trying to hide. In time, you can bury the secrets rather well with the other feelings, without presenting a tangled mess." She took another sip. "It all depends on what your goal is as to how you use them. But the bottom line is, that as a woman you must use your emotions to compartmentalize your life, not cut them off altogether."

"I'll need to practice," Hermione began and Narcissa cut her off once more, summoning another tea cup over into the girl's hands.

"Of course. A few minutes a day with me as your guide and you'll be on your feet in no time."

Hermione regarded Narcissa with open curiosity as the other woman continued to gaze at the fire. After a moment of quiet company and tea, she spoke once more.

"It still doesn't solve the question of Draco telling me the truth."

"He will," Narcissa said confidently. "Once he knows you will have at least a rudimentary skill in Occlumancy by the end of the week, he'll tell the truth."

"How can you speak for him that way?"

Narcissa smiled then, and it chilled Hermione briefly. It was the same smile she'd seen Draco use, whenever Ron had thrust himself into their happy party. It was a predatory smile. A scary smile.

"He'll speak. He's still a minor and I'm still his mother. Whatever hold the Dark Lord has on him, it is nothing compared to mine."

Hermione didn't ask anymore questions for some minutes.


	21. Lean Out, Look Around

**I don't own Harry Potter at all or make money here. Hmph.**

**AN: I realized, after a thoughtful reviewer poked me, that some of you may be concerned about Narcissa teaching Hermione Occlumency and potentially finding out the truth that way. Have no fear. I decided not to go back and address it directly in the story, so I'm giving you this explanation here: Narcissa isn't like Snape, merely out to demonstrate her power over Hermione and have at any and all memories. Instead, she'll work with Hermione based on predetermined memories and the knowledge of Draco's double agency (which is what Draco is most concerned about Hermione keeping hidden from prying minds). She will not be digging through Hermione's thoughts willy-nilly, so Hermione can keep the truth to herself. That is my explanation and I hope it works for you all. There's enough drama here without Narcissa accidentally discovering the truth, isn't there? ;) **

* * *

Draco hesitated outside Hermione's room for the third time that evening before he finally shook himself, straightened his shoulders, and pushed the door open. The sight that greeted him nearly made him turn and rush back outside, but he held his ground.

His proud, purist mother and proud, muggleborn…what was she? Girlfriend? Pretend paramour? Partner in crime- that was it. At any rate, the sight of them sitting in matching arm chairs, laughing over tea while a fire roared away merrily in the grate was a bit much. What, he supposed they were best friends now, or something; bonded over how stupid and git-like he was. Poor, stupid Draco, too dumb to know how to deal with regular witches, let alone pregnant ones. Whose babies weren't even his. Not that he cared about that.

Someone had to love the little half-bred brat sooner or later.

Not that he loved it. Yet.

He shook himself again, rolled his eyes at his own weaknesses rearing their ugly heads, and proceeded into the room.

Narcissa saw him first and though her smile didn't disappear, her brows rose in a question he wasn't about to answer. He turned to Hermione, who had stopped smiling and was now staring into her tea cup as if it held all the answers.

"Trying to divine our future, Hermione?" he managed to drawl and at that her eyes snapped back to his and she frowned.

"Divination is bunk."

"Don't I know it," he replied and perched on the arm of her chair. She curled away into the opposite corner and looked to Narcissa, as if begging for direction. He sighed noisily.

"Can't we just put it past us?" he asked and she glanced to him again while Narcissa looked on, her expression one of mild interest. Clearly she was going to make them work it out on their own…until she felt he wasn't doing what he ought. Then she'd stick her dainty nose in, he bet. That was just how his mother operated. He'd learned from the best, after all.

Hermione looked somewhat perturbed with his flippancy, but she pursed her lips and gazed up at him determinedly. His sneer softened into a smile. So. There was the old Hermione. Confident, hard-nosed, wanting to work things out no matter what. He hadn't realized she'd been missing or that he had missed her in the first place until she'd gone all hormonal mess on him.

"We can't," she said simply. "I doubt we ever really will. But we can work with it, right?"

"Are you asking or telling?" he responded and felt, rather than saw, his mother roll her eyes.

"I-" Hermione began, then shut her mouth and thought for a second. "Asking, I suppose."

"Then I suppose I agree," he replied.

"Draco, your mother is going to help me at least get the basics of Occlumancy down this week. She has a…different approach to it than Professor Snape. I think I have a real chance of mastering it, and soon, too. If I-"

Draco made a sharp motion, cutting her off, and stood. He looked to his mother.

"This is your idea of talking to her? Of fixing things? Absolutely not."

"Draco, you haven't even-" Hermione began even as Narcissa's honeyed tones slid over her protests.

"Sit down, Draco." Honeyed, but dangerous. Draco sat. Hermione nearly reached a hand out to him before she remembered that he still wasn't on her side. Well. In as much as either of them could be on the other's side at this point. He was doing his best, she had to give him that much- she could be reasonable, after all. But she'd asked herself the question, was it enough. And no, it wasn't. Still, she wished… Narcissa spoke again.

"Draco, you're my son. You're still a minor. And you're still living under my roof-"

"Father's roof, don't you mean."

Narcissa drew a sharp breath and Draco winced at the hiss of air, but he didn't apologize. His mother stood up at that and though her son was already as tall as she was, she'd had years more practice at appearing intimidating. Now she seemed to almost tower over him at his insolence and his shoulders hunched while Hermione shrank even further into the seat. This time, Draco's slid his hand down the chair's arm and found hers. He squeezed her hand gently and snuck a glance at her. Hermione stared up at him, face pale and proud as his own.

Finally, after what felt like minutes but was only seconds, Draco apologized.

"I'm sorry, Mother. I didn't mean that."

"Of course you did," she replied. "And don't think I don't see you holding hands over there. Now, are you going to tell her the truth on her word?"

Draco looked back at Hermione, who'd reclaimed her hand. "I just…"

"I trust you, Draco, as much as I can, but I need to know the truth."

"If you need to know the truth then that's not trust at all-"

"It is! Why are you making this so-"

Narcissa clapped her hands once and the bickering stopped.

"I realize you're teenagers who didn't think this far ahead," she said, "but I'm tired and I really need you to make a decision now, in the next minute before I leave you two alone and head for bed. I don't want any misunderstandings or threats to one another's lives while I'm asleep."

"There isn't any decision to make, is there?" Draco finally spat. "You're going to make me tell her the truth whether I want to or not."

"Draco, darling. The question now isn't whether you trust her abilities, it's do you trust mine, since I'm the one teaching her."

That drew him up short and he stared at his mother a moment, shame-faced, before turning to Hermione. He reached for her hand again, but she crossed her arms. He sighed and rubbed at his eyes.

"Can't I go to bed too?"

"Nonsense. Now are you going to tell her or shall I?"

Draco opened his mouth, closed it, stared at Narcissa, stared at the fire, slid several side-long glances at Hermione, and finally stood up again.

"Go to bed, Mother. I'll tell her."

Narcissa gave a wan smile and kissed Hermione good night, then pecked her son on the cheek as well.

"Very well. I expect to see you both alive and well at breakfast tomorrow. Love, darling. Good night."

Draco watched her leave and shut the door tight, then took her seat across from Hermione, who was now looking directly at him expectantly. He made a face.

"Go on, gloat," he said.

"Excuse me?"

"Gloat!" he said. "You know, since you have the upper hand now. You got your way, you won. Thanks for turning my own mum against me, by the way, I hope that goes down alright, doesn't cause you any-"

"Draco!" Hermione exclaimed. "How dare you! This isn't about who got whose way, or winning, or anything like that! I'll consider myself as having won if I and my child are alive at the end of the damned school year!"

Draco closed his eyes and flopped back in the chair. He pinched his nose, then settled his chin on his hand and stared into the fire. Hermione glared at him at first, but gradually the frown wore away to concern. She was about to reach out to him again when he spoke.

"You're right. I'm sorry- I'm just- I can't help…I worry about it. I'm very, very worried."

"I know you're under a lot of stress," Hermione offered and Draco snorted.

"Stress? Oh, sure. You want the truth? I'm not under stress, Hermione. I'm under orders from the Dark Lord to kill Albus Dumbledore by the end of the school year or else my parents, my whole family, gets it. That's not stress. That's terror."

It was minutes before Hermione found her voice. "You haven't succeeded…oh, no." Her voice dropped to a whisper. "Katie Bell."

"Katie Bell," he agreed and looked away. "Sure you still want to do all this? Stick by me? I'm terrible, I'm a _monster_."

Hermione started to shake her head again, but she knew it was true. She didn't agree or disagree, and instead ignored his question. After all, there wasn't much she could do at this point. She put a hand over her mouth and closed her eyes. Harry had been right about that much. But then…

"You're still working? Even after that?"

Draco sighed and wiped a hand down his face. "I was. I am? But I'm not doing a very good job. And then you…this thing happened and I found out…well, I found out some important things. And after talking with him, Dumbledore, I decided to just switch sides. I mean, what have I got to lose? My life? The lives of my family? They're as good as dead anyway, living under that fucking tyrant. So I switched. Now, I'm a double agent, or something like that, I guess."

"What does that even mean for you? Are you going to keep failing on purpose?"

Draco's eyes snapped to hers and whatever question she'd been about to ask, whatever theory she wanted to propound, died on her lips. The partial truth- the one Draco knew she would jump to- hit her.

"Oh, Draco. You actually have to keep trying, don't you? What are you…are you informing Dumbledore before you do it?"

"Have to make it real, don't we? But yeah, he knows most of the plans- half of them are his idea."

"Oh, Draco," she murmured again and they both fell to silence for some minutes.

Draco finally roused himself and glanced across at her. She was staring into space as pensively as he'd been and he suddenly felt terrible for burdening her with more than her fair share. She deserved better than him, didn't she? Then again, she deserved better than any of this: for her first child to come when she was safely married to a man she loved and already out of school, with a good job and a life, and long, long after the war was over…

He tried to ignore the part of him that kept suggesting _he _be the one she was married to in his daydream, but it refused to shut up. After all, his mother was right- they were just stupid teenagers with too much to deal with. What did either of them really know of life and love? But damned if his heart wasn't pounding in his chest and his mind wasn't putting images in front of his eyes.

"Draco?"

"Hm?" he responded automatically, glad of the orange firelight to hide his blushing cheeks.

"I understand now why you didn't want to tell me all this. But I'm glad you did, anyway. I have some time- and I'm going to work very hard with your mother this week."

He eyed her seriously and leant forward in his seat. "Are you really?" he asked softly. "Glad I told, you, I mean?"

She swallowed hard, then nodded. "I am. I'd rather know than be in the dark. We've enough secrets, don't we?"

Her eyes were soft and warm- accepting, even if they were sad. Sad for him and his circumstances, sad for herself, sad for their family and friends. He reached out and put his hand on her knee. She covered it with her own.

"We'll get through it, whatever happens," he said, but it was more of a question. She managed a grim smile.

"We have to," she said simply and continued to hold his gaze. The fire crackled away and the heat and dancing light sent shivers up both their spines.

"Hermione, I-"

"Don't," she said, with a small shake of her head. "Whatever it is, you don't need to say it. We both took that vow, we both knew the risks, even if the stakes are a bit bigger than I'd imagined. I'm in it with you, whatever either of us imagines we feel."

"I'm not imagining anything," he replied softly and then slid from his seat and, bracing himself on the arms of her chair, leaned over her. "And if you think I am, you're mental."

"Draco…" she whispered and a split second later, the rest of her words were swallowed by his mouth on hers.

* * *

**AN: Ta-da. Cookie? **


	22. Brace Yourself

**I don't own Harry Potter, people. Saaaad.**

**AN: So, I was listening to sappy music about babies (Fisher's "You") and thought, why not post another chapter? I have some extras lying around. Et voila. Amusez vous bien!**

* * *

Hermione woke refreshed the next morning, her lips still tingling from the gentle, passionate kiss Draco had given her the previous night. Sunlight was streaming in the frosty panes of the windows and she rolled over and yawned before stretching some and settling back under the covers. She knew she should get up, but she'd been having the loveliest dream…what was it about again? Hmm, some strong, blond haired, grey-eyed young man holding her close and whispering sweet nothings in her ear…

She'd nearly drowsed off again when there was a knock on her chamber door and a few seconds later Narcissa Malfoy poked her head inside.

"Ah, sleeping in, dear?"

Without so much as a by your leave the woman marched into the room and sat down on the edge of the bed. Hermione started to sit up, thought better of it, and put an arm behind her head. She stifled another yawn.

"And how late did you and Draco stay up last night?"

Hermione blushed and Narcissa laughed. "No need to be embarrassed, darling; my son is a good looking young man and I'd be shocked, honestly, if you hadn't spent part of the night letting him kiss you." She tucked the blankets in about Hermione and then sat back, looking both sad and smug. "Especially with the stress you're both under. It could be very relaxing."

Hermione gaped at her, then giggled and Narcissa's face broke into an easy smile. It lit her up and Hermione wasn't surprised to see that Draco's mother, stern and snobbish though she might seem, was truly a beautiful woman.

"You really care about me?" she asked impulsively and Narcissa's smile faded.

"Of course I do. You're not the first young witch to find herself in dire circumstances, you know. Besides which, even if your baby weren't my son's, he cares for you. And I'm not about to lose him just because you don't fit my image of his perfect girlfriend. There. That answer your question?"

Hermione nodded and finally sat up. She felt somewhat awkward, but Narcissa took her hands in her own and smiled again.

"Whatever happens, I'm here for him and you, my dear girl." The older witch stretched a hand to Hermione's face and cupped her cheek. "You know, I always wanted a daughter. I guess I never thought…" Her voice trailed off.

Hermione bit her lip and was about to respond when the tender moment was gone before she could even blink. Narcissa sat back again, her hand dropping to her lap and glanced about the room.

"Well, I believe Draco has some plans for you this afternoon, once you've eaten and we've had our lesson. Are you feeling up to it, still?"

Hermione nodded again and Narcissa exhaled and eyed the younger woman steadily. "Then I'd better let you get dressed. I'm glad you're with us, Hermione, and that we haven't frightened you off yet." She patted Hermione legs and then was up and out of the room once more. Hermione stared after her thoughtfully for a moment and finally, finally she slid her legs from under the covers and rose to greet the day.

* * *

Breakfast and lessons after passed uneventfully- successfully, even- and Hermione soon found herself back in her room, pulling on the beautiful coat and tucking her muffler about her neck. Draco walked in the open doorway and took her in before she noticed him. She was looking older than she had when they'd gotten off the train yesterday, but her shoulders were relaxed and eyes bright. So, whatever she felt about his news last night, she'd accepted it and wanted to move on.

"Sorry I wasn't at breakfast," he finally spoke and she turned towards him, shook her head.

"It's fine. I got up late."

"I know," he replied and they fell to silence. She smoothed the flounce of her coat nervously, then lifted her hands away and gave them a small shake before tugging on gloves.

"So, a walk?"

"That's right," he said. "All bundled up?"

"Mm-hmm," she murmured. She took his arm gingerly and they swept down the hall together, down the stairs and to the front door. "I didn't- I didn't thank you for fixing the coat," she said softly and he paused as he opened the door for her.

"You don't have to," he replied. "I'm glad you still want to wear it."

"Yes, it's-" she stopped, shrugged and walked outside, not bothering to finish her sentence. He didn't expect her to, honestly. He offered his arm again and she took it more swiftly this time. Then they fell into an easy rhythm of walking and chatting briefly about the snow, the cold, and the beautiful greenery. The sky was clear and blue after a small snowfall the night before and though their breath puffed out before them, the sun was shining brightly. Draco reached over with his free hand to tug Hermione's cap further about her ears and she laughed.

"Quit it."

"You have to stay warm," he said practically and she giggled again, batting away his hand.

"It's a beret, you'll make it look ridiculous-"

"It already looks ridiculous," he responded and she laughed more.

"Draco-"

"Hermione," he mimicked and then stopped short, pulling her back into his arms, and he kissed her solidly, right in the middle of the road.

"Draco," she breathed when he finally pulled away. Her nose was red, along with her cheeks and lips and he kissed her again.

This time she pulled away. "Draco, you can't just go about kissing me in the middle of the avenue-"

"I can do whatever I like," he said, brows raised in a dangerous expression. She shivered and smacked his arm, then tugged on it.

"Let's go, please?"

He was silent a moment longer, then grumbled his assent and they resumed walking. Hermione cuddled a little closer to his side, though, and the corners of his mouth curved up delightedly.

It was a beautiful day and despite their problems from last night, and all the problems yet to come, he suddenly felt as if none of it mattered. Because Hermione blushed when he kissed her and blushed when he held her hand and couldn't stop darting glances at his face and, oh, Merlin, was he in love.

"We're nearly there," he said over the sound of his heart beating in his ears. If he sounded a little nervous, Hermione didn't say anything.

Instead, she took in their surroundings. They were on the main street entering a small village- one not unlike Ottery St. Catchpole, or Hogsmeade. The sign over the post office door read proudly "Kington Eastley Postal Service." The streets were even and wide and buildings lined every side, with the occasional decorative shrubbery outside a doorway. The snow made it quite picturesque, with its gabled roofs; the steeple and arched windows upon the chapel; and the tower attached to the town hall, that rose over everything else. Being so close to Christmas, there were plenty of other couples, families and individuals wandering the avenue, bags of this and that in hand. Many shop windows were decorated for the season as well, complete with candles, twinkle lights and the smell of apples and cinnamon wafting out of every open door. Hermione tugged on Draco's arm, unable to help herself.

"Oh, look at that, Draco!" she said, pointing in delight at the display of handcrafted ornaments- glass, ceramics, and woodwork. Her smile softened as she spotted one in particular. Draco quirked a brow at her, then pulled his arm free.

"Don't move," he said and then he was gone from her side and opening the door of the craft shop.

Hermione watched from outside, hands thrust in her pockets for warmth, as Draco spoke to the man behind the counter. He in turn reached into the window display. The fellow gestured at the ornament she'd been eyeing and she nodded, despite her embarrassment. Draco must've said something as well, because the man smiled brightly and pulled a second one from the tree. Less than a minute later, Draco was back outside, a bag in hand.

"What was that?" she asked and he shrugged.

"You wanted that one, didn't you?" he replied and she took the bag, nodding and gazing into it. Very gently, she pulled the ornament from its tissue paper and inspected it up close.

A tiny pair of ceramic pink booties, the laces hand painted with fluffy pink poms glued on to match, and an attached tag that read, "Baby's First Christmas." If Hermione had been concerned about what her heart was doing around Draco Malfoy, she knew now. It was melting, utterly and completely. No wonder she'd been so upset the previous night. Not only was she learning to trust him, she was doing more than pretending to fall in love. She really was in love. Hell's bells.

She lifted her eyes to his and managed a smile. "Thank you. Are you sure I can't pay-"

"Better put it back so it doesn't get damaged," he replied, ignoring her gratitude and attempt at independence. He held open the tissue paper and she nestled it back in place before he wrapped it and put it into the bag.

"What's the other one?" she asked and he merely raised an eyebrow again.

"Hermione, you have to allow me some secrets."

She rolled her eyes at him, but let it drop and he took her arm again, the bag in his other hand.

"You don't have to keep being so nice," she murmured after some more minutes of walking, leaning close to him. Her warm breath on his jaw made him tingle all over and he tightened his grip on her arm. Oh, Merlin. She really thought he was just still being nice? _Only _nice? And after that kiss last night, and the kisses in Paris and crying on her shoulder- she still thought he was playing a part.

"What do you think this is, Hermione?" he suddenly whispered, stopping in the shelter of some awning along a storefront. "Your coat, an ornament- yeah, buying you those things _is_ nice. Spending time with you because we're both lonely and it pisses off your friends is selfish. Risking my life for you is even noble. But don't you think we're a little past just plain old nice? I'm not kissing you every chance I get for my bloody health, Hermione."

She gaped and drew back a little. She could feel the heat rising to her cheeks again. "That's not- what I mean is- oh, hell."

"Oh hell is right," he replied and tugged her into a nearby tea shop. "Come on. I'm not discussing this on an empty stomach."

"Now you sound like Ron," she said wryly and he glanced back at her as he pulled out her chair.

"I meant your empty stomach, Hermione," he muttered and she glared at him, but it didn't hold much malice. She took the seat he indicated and they set about ordering sandwiches and tea. Only once the food had been brought and largely consumed did Draco set his cup down and watch Hermione polish off the last crumbs of cake.

"I wish you'd let me pay for some of-"

"Ah-ah," Draco cut her off. "It's rude to question my need to provide for you."

"You-" Hermione tried again, but stopped and sighed instead. "Fine. What, exactly, do you think we need to discuss?"

Draco had the grace to look uncomfortable and he leaned back in his seat, propping his chin on one hand.

Only Draco Malfoy could make an awkward talk about feelings look sexy, Hermione thought. She finished off her tea while she waited for him to say something. After all, he was the boy. He had better say it first- especially in a situation like this one. She wasn't about to tell the man who was only pretending to be her baby's father (no matter how wonderful he'd been) that she loved him _first_. That was asking for trouble. In fact, saying they loved one another at all was asking for trouble.

"Look, Hermione. Don't think I want to be having this conversation. I don't. This is the last thing I ever thought I'd be doing with you."

Now that was interesting.

"Even after snogging me or shagging with me?" she asked bluntly and he gave a small jerk.

"Merlin, Hermione."

"Just pointing out the obvious."

"Alright, fine, even after those things. But this is not what I wanted to talk about."

"Your sexual fantasies?"

"Hermione!"

"Draco!" Hermione responded, mockingly. "Ok then, what did you want to say?"

He grew serious again and eyed her quietly for a moment. "I need you to understand that I'm not just doing all this out of some ethical compunction. The truth is, weeks in a broom closet does things to a man."

Hermione raised a brow and inspected the china in an effort to keep from snorting and laughing.

"Oh? And what might those things be?"

"Bloody hell-"

"Draco, you're being very sweet and wonderful, really, most of the time- and you've finally trusted me with the truth, which, believe me, does more for my opinion of you than any amount of snogging. But I just don't see how our feelings for one another can matter right now."

"So you do have feelings for me?"

"Oh, I have all sorts of feelings for you, Draco. Which ones might you mean?"

He grit his teeth and squeezed his eyes shut briefly. "The ones involving that miserly, bookish heart of yours belonging to me."

Hermione looked at him sharply and felt her breath catch. "Those."

"Yes, those." His face suddenly fell. "That is, if they exist, I'd very much like to know about them. Because, ah, I'm afraid I've probably fallen in love with you, but you're having this baby and I'm just a convenience, really-"

Hermione bit her lip and stared determinedly at the tablecloth.

"That was a really poor excuse for a confession of love," she murmured.

"I know," he replied. He took a deep breath and looked to her again. "Hermione, I love you. I don't know how it happened, or why, but it has and I'm asking you-"

"Yes," she said. She lifted her eyes to his. "Yes. I feel the same way." Her voice was barely a whisper and he leaned forward over the table.

"You do!" he barked and then, with a guilty glance at the disturbed patrons about them, he quieted down. "You do- Hermione-"

"Please, let's not talk about it any longer, Draco."

"Why not?"

"Because, nothing can happen! I mean, I know this is what we want people to think, but for right now seeing this baby make it into the world safely is the only thing we should be focusing on."

"But if our feelings are part of the plan-"

"That's just it," she hissed, standing up. "They aren't. Not our real feelings, anyhow. Only the false ones, the pretend ones. No one cares how we really feel about each other. We can't afford to, either. Not until…"

"Until the baby is born," he finished for her. She shook her head sadly.

"Until the war is over," she corrected, then strode from the shop. Draco stared after her, too stunned to move for several seconds. Then he finally shook himself, put some money on the table, and went after her.

* * *

**AN: Man, it's fluff city up there. Holy heck. **


	23. And Leap

**I don't own Harry Potter at all! Bleeeh.**

**AN: I solemnly swear I am not trying to proselytize you. It's just a church, ok?**

* * *

He caught up to her as she stood outside the ancient church, gazing up at the rose window.

"Would you like to go inside?" he asked quietly and she shook her head.

"I hardly- _we_ hardly belong in a place like this anymore, do we?"

He frowned and grabbed her hand. "Come on."

"Draco, what-"

But he was pulling her in side the small church after him before she could finish her sentence. Her breath caught in her throat as she gazed about. The pillars and pews were all decorated for the season, with freshly cut holly and pine boughs. Candles along every window and the altar dressed in white.

"It's lovely," she said softly.

"It is," he agreed. "My family and I still come for Christmas Eve service every year. This will be the first year without Father. I know it bothers her, Mother, I mean," he continued. "But she won't talk to me about it. She thinks she has to be brave for me, or something like that. When really…"

"When really you're the one being brave for her," Hermione finished for him. Draco didn't respond and instead moved into a pew and sat. He didn't motion to Hermione to join him, but she went anyway. As she slid into the seat beside him, he reached over and took her hand.

"So you believe any of it?"

"Christianity?" he asked and gave her a wry look. "I don't know. We always came more as a matter of tradition- the family from the manor house visiting the lowly townsfolk." He was quiet a moment, then went on. "I don't believe in much of anything anymore, except my ability to do magic…and the ability of a madman to kill us all."

Draco looked to Hermione and she pressed her lips together, tightened her grip on his hand.

"And I believe in my feelings for you and this baby."

"Draco…"

"Listen to me, Hermione. I don't care what we said at the beginning; about make-believe and pretending to love one another. We're in it good, now. It's real, not fake. We can't change that. Why not use it?"

Hermione looked away. The sunlight filtering through the old glass, the sheen upon the holly leaves bright and glossy. The feel of his hand in hers. Those things were real and she knew he was right. But what if…

"What if you go back to them?" she whispered. "What if you change your mind again, decide we're not worth it? What if something awful happens to you?" She looked over at him and saw his face was pinched and pale.

"I swear to you, Hermione," he said, "I will never turn on you. That's over. I may- I will have to do some awful things, but I'm not going back to them, not really. Not ever."

"But if-"

"My life, my family's lives, they're already forfeit," he murmured. "Nothing I do now will change that. He'll never trust us again and even if we survived somehow he'd keep trying to kill us. Me, on your side? That's the only certain thing I have right now."

"Draco, I couldn't stand it-" she tried again.

"If I got hurt? If I died? You faced down death yourself last summer, Hermione. Don't try to tell me you couldn't live without me. You'd live and you'd thrive. You were doing well enough before we ever entered into this agreement."

"I know," she whispered. "But the way I feel now…it's different. Even how I felt about Ron, it wasn't this strong, this scary. I just can't give in to it, not yet. Please."

"It's only different because we're in more danger. It's not a game anymore. And you can't just decide that you don't want to feel this way yet. You already feel it. It's not a matter of giving in to it, Hermione. If I tell you I love you I _mean_ it." He squeezed her hand. "I don't know what in hell it means for us in the future, but right now it's real enough and that has to be good enough for both of us." Taking both her hands, he turned her towards him.

"Please, Hermione," he murmured. "Please don't fight it."

She looked down at their hands and squeezed his gently in return. "You're asking a lot."

"I've given a lot."

She sighed and lifted her head, met his eyes.

"Alright, Draco. So we love each other. What now?"

He felt tension drain from his shoulders and his face relaxed into a soft smile.

"Now," he said, "I can kiss you properly."

And he did. It was a sweet kiss, slow and gentle and he pulled away before she could protest or lose her breath. It was the kiss of a gentleman to the woman he loved and it was full of promise. Hermione squeezed his hands again and smiled up at him.

"We should go."

He nodded his agreement and gestured. She stood and made her way from the pew first and he followed. He paused at the door, letting her exit first and then turned back once more. His gaze took in the church, its ancient stone and stained glass and he felt his heart swell with some strange conviction.

"Someday," he whispered to himself. Then he followed Hermione out into the bright afternoon sun and chill wind.

* * *

They did a bit more window shopping in companionable silence, punctuated by her cries of delight and censure as he continued to press bags and kisses upon her. This garnered some attention from fellow shoppers, but all who saw the young couple merely smiled or rolled their eyes. Teenagers in love and on holiday was how they appeared and it warmed more than one heart to see them.

By the time they arrived back at the manor, a house elf was waiting at the edge of the long drive up to the gates with a small carriage.

"Mistress bids you use it," the elf squeaked out and Hermione was glad to see the small thing was bundled appropriately.

"A magic carriage?" Hermione asked as Draco handed her up. After all, there were no horses and the inside was quite toasty.

"Of course," he replied and then settled back to enjoy the smooth ride up to the front doors. "Mother probably would have preferred we take it all the way in to town and back, but you're not too chilled from the walk, are you?"

"Hmm? No, I think I'll be alright. The coat has that magical lining, after all," she pointed out and Draco smiled at her indulgently.

"Does it? I'd forgotten."

"You forgot no such thing," she said.

"Well I can't have the mother of my child freezing to death. What's the point of a beautiful coat if it's not also practical?"

Hermione snorted, but didn't respond and the carriage finally came to a halt. Draco stepped out and handed her down with ease, then walked her through the open doorway as the carriage pulled away. They met Narcissa in the entry hall and she reached for some of Draco's bags.

"Moppy met you at the end of the drive," she confirmed and they nodded. Draco pulled the bags away.

"Ah-ah," he said. "Christmas gifts."

"Oh, come now," Narcissa began, but he smiled mysteriously and headed for the stairs, whistling. Hermione shrugged when the older woman turned a curious gaze upon her.

"Where is my son and what have you done with him?" she joked and Hermione gave a guilty start.

"He's not-"

"Oh, he's like this from time to time," Narcissa offered and helped Hermione take off her things. Her voice grew wistful. "But it has been a while since I've seen him so happy."

"It's been a while since any of us have really been able to enjoy ourselves," Hermione replied.

"But I see you've worked things out, at least."

"Yes, I- at least, I hope so."

Narcissa smiled broadly. "Good. Now, why don't you come into the parlor and we'll sit by the fire and get you all warmed up. I'll teach you how to play whist."

Hermione just smiled and nodded and didn't say a word.

* * *

An hour later, Hermione was feeling much warmer and Draco had descended from the bowels of his room to join them. He'd wandered into the drawing room, in which a large, bare tree stood in one corner, and proceeded to glance about himself before attempting to surreptitiously place a few wrapped packages beneath said tree.

"You're not fooling anyone, Draco, darling," his mother called and he shrugged, sticking his now empty hands in his pockets.

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Have you told her yet?" Narcissa asked as she played another hand. Hermione glanced up at Draco, brows raised.

"Told me what?" She looked back at Narcissa, who smiled.

"We're going to have an early Christmas here at the manor. The three of us and I invited your parents to come as well, though I haven't their response yet."

Hermione immediately tensed. She was torn between thinking it was a lovely idea and being terrified that her parents should step foot anywhere near where Bellatrix Lestrange or Voldemort might randomly appear.

"I-" she began, and stopped short. She closed her mouth and looked at Draco, her eyes pleading.

"Cat got your tongue, Hermione? That's alright. I thought you might, er, love the idea," he filled in quickly as he came to sit on the chair beside her. He looked to his mother. "Too shocked we'd think of something as nice as all that to say anything, aren't you?" he said and nudged Hermione with his shoulder while Narcissa gazed between the two of them, an amused look upon her face.

"Well, that's settled then. You're really pleased, my dear girl?"

Draco nudged her again, a bit harder and she responded, a bright smile pasted on her face.

"Oh, yes," she gushed, "I think it's a lovely idea. I can hardly wait!"

"Good. What we'd planned was a nice family meal the evening before you leave and your parents can stay and help you pack and then Draco and I will see you off the next morning."

"Lovely," Hermione reiterated, though her words came out high and breathy. Draco cast a wild look her way before dissolving into laughter. Narcissa eyed him with a frown on her lips.

"What on earth has gotten into you?" she asked and he only shook his head and laughed harder.

* * *

The next day followed a similar pattern to the first, and the day after that; the only differences being in hers and Draco's afternoon activities. Instead of walking to the village, they walked around the snow covered gardens. Instead of the gardens, Draco took her to the stables where three beautifully kept horses barely filled a space meant for twenty. They rounded out the day reading to one another from the most boring textbooks they could find in his family library and playing several rounds of whist with his mother and the house elves. Professor Snape even joined them one evening for dinner and drinks.

That was perhaps the most painful evening Hermione spent in Malfoy Manor. Worse, even, than the first night when she'd argued so dreadfully with Draco- but not painful because of some hurt, real or imagined. She'd just never expected to spend time with Professor Snape outside of school, and it was extremely awkward. Especially when he kept casting glances her way and raising one inquisitive eyebrow at her. Really, what did he expect her to be doing? A happy jig? Bawling in misery?

It was quite disconcerting.

It was the fourth night of their break and Hermione and Draco were busy placing ornaments- including the beautiful pink, miniature baby shoes- upon the tree. Draco kept throwing tinsel at her when she wasn't looking and then pretending the house elves were doing it. She merely settled for tossing left over popcorn and cranberries his way. Amazingly, their Christmas traditions seemed incredibly similar to her own family's, with the exception of the candy canes Draco had insisted they each suck on as they worked.

Across the room, seated in front of a roaring fire, Narcissa and Snape spoke in quiet tones over some glasses of mulled wine. A bemused expression had taken the place of Severus' raised brows and Narcissa followed his line of sight.

"Staring again? What on earth is the matter with you, Severus?" Narcissa asked, taking a sip of her wine.

"I'm merely…surprised," he murmured. "They're getting along well."

"You've seen more of them than I have," she pointed out. "From what I understand, they spend more time in broom closets than in classes."

"Mmm," Severus replied. He turned his eyes to Narcissa. "And how are you taking it all?"

"Quite well," she replied and settled back in her chair. "I really…I really wasn't sure what to expect when you first flooed me about it all. But now I've spoken to them both- Draco at some length- and, well, it's obvious to anyone that they really care about one another. Just look at them," she said, gesturing over to where Hermione had just pelted Draco in the forehead with a berry. He was now chasing her around the tree.

Severus wasn't certain that it was entirely love mottling Draco's face that lovely pink color as he chased the young Gryffindor about. In fact, he thought it looked more like-

"I'm sorry?" he said, turning back to Narcissa, who'd gone on talking. "You know, I'm really not the best judge of young love," he murmured apologetically, a small sneer on his lips.

Narcissa raised a brow at him. "No, I know, Severus. Well, I suppose it's getting late," she said by way of ending the evening and the potions professor checked the clock on the wall and then nodded.

"It is, rather. I'll see you again soon, I hope?" he said as they stood and he allowed her to kiss his cheek.

"Of course. Draco, Hermione, Professor Snape is leaving."

Hermione halted abruptly and turned to wave. Draco crashed into her and they tumbled to the ground. Draco pulled his head up, still pinning his beloved down, and rolled his eyes at his professor and mentor. Snape sneered at him.

"I'll see you after break, children," he said pointedly in their direction and Hermione blushed fiercely and pushed at Draco. Narcissa waved her hands as if to say, what can I do with them? Nothing. Then she followed Snape from the room.

"Finally, we're alone," Draco muttered and looked back down at Hermione, who was gasping for breath.

"Draco, will you please- ugh- get off?"

"What's that? Get bent?"

"Draco!"

He smiled at her and finally rolled off and into a sitting position. "Alright, come on," he said, holding out a hand and helping her up as well. "There you are."

She scooted over to sit next to him and together they sat in silence, gazing up at the tree. They could hear voices beyond the door, from down the hall. So, Snape was still here, taking his leave. Draco rolled his eyes over at her and made a face. She frowned, trying not to giggle, but it was impossible.

"How do you do it?" she asked once their quiet laughter had subsided.

"Do what?" he asked as he admired his handiwork with the tinsel, idly picking strands of it from her hair.

"Compartmentalize this way? Be so happy here, with me, but then go and…betray your teachers, your fellow students? How can you live with it?"

He froze and his hand dropped. He looked away and shrugged.

"It's the only way I _can _live," he said. "It's the only way my father lives. Though I suspect Azkaban will have changed that."

"But how-"

"Look, Hermione," he began, turning to her again. "You live with your emotions; no matter how conflicted you feel, you accept them all and you work through them. I don't. My father doesn't. Snape doesn't. It's how we are. Isn't it enough that here, with you, I feel happy and I let myself enjoy that moment?" His eyes pled with her for understanding. "Isn't it enough to take each moment as it is? What more do you want me to say?"

She pressed her lips together and after a long second, she nodded and reached for his hand. He let her take it and smiled at her again.

"Thank you. For letting me have this much."

"You're welcome," she replied, her words a whisper in the great room. Somewhere, a large door banged shut and footsteps echoed down a hallway; but in that moment there was only Draco, and Hermione, and a baby, waiting to be born.

The promise of a new life.

* * *

**AN: Oh, gawd, the fluff. Save me from the fluff! **


	24. A Moment of Suspended Animation

**I don't own Harry Potter. Meh. **

**AN: More fluff, but the last of these massive amounts for a while. :) The drama injections begin again next chapter, sort of.**

* * *

The next night, Hermione waited nervously in the drawing room for her parents to arrive. She was wearing a garish red sweater with a giant, sparkling, dancing snowman on the front and a pair of candy cane striped socks along with a denim skirt (that was her own). Draco had dug the ensemble from out of a pile of unwanted gifts of Christmases past and Hermione had to admit that they fit her fairly well. She imagined he couldn't have been more than ten or eleven when he'd received them. He, in turn had put on the presents Ginny and Hermione had given him- a striped green and red sweater with a giant D on the front of it, à la one of Mrs. Weasley's creations. (It was, in fact, Ginny's first attempt at sweaters. Draco assured Hermione that he loved it. She rather thought he was just a good actor.) His socks were also candy cane striped and he'd insisted they play Christmas carols on the wireless loudly and often.

His ridiculous Christmas spirit was infectious enough to make Hermione's nerves disappear for at least half the day; though by the time five o'clock rolled around her stomach was in knots again.

Narcissa merely smiled and avoided him. She insisted she didn't want to catch whatever was wrong with him; although she, too, was busy helping the house elves make cookies and more mulled wine and she'd gone around all day with a sprig of mistletoe in her hands, looking for the perfect surprise spot to hang it.

Hermione thought they were both quite mad. Then again, what had Draco told her about enjoying each moment? And there certainly hadn't been much mirth in the Malfoy household this year. If they wanted to enjoy these small pleasures before they were gone for good, she supposed she shouldn't let it bother her.

Maybe learning to enjoy the small things, herself, wouldn't be such a bad idea. After all, wasn't that what she tried to do now, with Ginny and Harry and even Draco? It was- they were no different, really. Underneath, they all looked the same, thought and felt the same- their blood ran the same dark red as anyone else.

She jumped slightly at a hand on her shoulder and looked over to find Draco watching her seriously.

"Draco," she murmured. "What is it? Are they here?"

"Not yet," he replied. He glanced at the open doors into the room and cocked his head, as if listening for something. When no sound came, he turned and motioned to her. "Come with me," he said. She followed him over to the tree, curious, and guessed what he meant to do two seconds before he placed the small, brightly wrapped packaged in her hands.

"Go on," he urged. "Open it, please?"

"Draco…"

"Hermione. It's just a gift," he said, suddenly awkward and unsure of himself. "I wanted…to give it to you. Before you left. But before everyone else got here."

"I assumed that's why you insisted on me opening it right now," she said wryly, though she still didn't move.

"Hermione-"

"What is it, Draco?" she asked, quietly. It was small enough to be…but no, there was no way he would give her something that important. Was there? They'd only _just _declared their love- or overblown teenaged lust, whatever it was- to one another a few days ago. It was far too soon for presents of this import.

"Just open it," he huffed. "Unless you don't want it-" he began and reached for it. She snatched it away and turned around, began ripping at the paper.

"No, I want it," she replied coyly, dancing out his way when he reached for her again. He finally stood still, eyes averted, yet darting to her face every other second, eager to see her reaction, anxious to know how she felt.

It must be a very important gift, indeed.

She finally had the paper off. A logo and name she didn't recognize was engraved in the top of the wooden jewelry box. She eyed him steadily for a full minute before he grew impatient once more.

"Well?"

She smirked at him, but her heart beat faster as she finally lifted the lid of the tiny box. Inside, nestled into blue velvet, lay a silver joint ring; its three hoops reflecting the candle light brightly. Hermione looked up Draco, a question in her eyes.

"Do you…like it?" he asked, hesitant, and she nodded slowly.

"It's lovely," she whispered.

"Good," he breathed, then plucked the box from her hands again. "Put it on," he urged and tugged the ring gently from its place. He reached for Hermione's right hand and slid the ring into place on the fourth finger. It was loose, and he flushed.

"Bloody-" he began, then stopped and looked up at her. "I'm sorry- I can have it resized if you- I think my mum knows the spell-"

"No," she interrupted him. "Here, it'll fit the middle one- there." She held up her right hand and gazed at the interlocking loops, not daring to blink for fear of crying. "Draco, it really is lovely." She turned to him and kissed his cheek impulsively. "Thank you."

He blushed again and tucked the box in her pocket. "Better hang onto that," he said. Then he looked up at her.

"I promise, Hermione," he said. "I promised in the church and I swear to you again, here. I won't change my mind again. I'm…for you. And your baby."

"Draco, you don't have to say-"

"I want to," he insisted. "I need you to understand that. All our talk of feelings and compartmentalizing and motives…I need this."

Hermione bit her lip and glanced away, up at the tree. Her eyes caught the ornament he'd bought her and she smiled softly.

"Fine," she said, turning back to him. "Thank you, Draco. I...I'll wear it everday."

He smirked and raised a brow at her, but took her hand with surprising tenderness.

"Come on, I think your parents just arrived."

Hermione eyed him a beat longer, a smaller version of his smirk gracing her lips. Then she followed him out into the hall. She suddenly wasn't sure if she was ready to leave Malfoy Manor, or stay there the rest of her life. Either way, the clamor of emotions high in her breast had drowned out the arrival of her parents, who were indeed in the front hall, arms full of gifts, being greeted by Narcissa Malfoy and a house elf.

Hermione had seen many strange and unsettling things in the last five years, but this was perhaps the strangest of all. Her mother and father merely blinked in surprise at the tiny elf, greeted Narcissa with kisses (her mother) and a stern handshake (her father) and then turned their gazes to their daughter.

And Christmas officially began.

* * *

Days after she'd left Malfoy's home and was settled back with her parents; after the eggnog was drunk, the figgy pudding eaten, and presents opened; an owl arrived from Ginny, who insisted on knowing all the dirty details. Had she shagged Draco yet? What had he given her for Christmas? More importantly, was it worth more than all of Ginny's possessions combined?

Hermione grinned at her friend's impudence and penned a quick reply; telling her that she'd be there for the New Year party the Twins had planned at their Diagon Alley shop; and that she'd spill the beans then and no sooner.

She was just finished sealing it up when her mother walked into the living room.

"Leaving tomorrow, right darling?" she asked and set a mug of hot cider down at Hermione's elbow.

Hermione looked up at her and smiled. "Just for a couple days. School starts again after that anyhow. You won't miss me much, will you?" she asked and reached behind her to place the letter into Pigwidgeon's waiting talons. The tiny owl accepted the reply and a treat before he scooted off into the bright afternoon sky. Ron had been much better about letting Ginny use him after the entire mess back at the start of the year. He'd been nicer to her, in fact- especially recently, and right before break. Thinking of him now made Hermione's stomach twist in knots and she drew herself back to what her mother was saying.

"Oh, I think we'll manage without you," Mrs. Granger replied, smiling, but her eyes were sad. Hermione hugged her mother about the waist and the older woman sat down beside her, closing the window behind them. "I'm glad you had a nice time at the Malfoys'," she went on. "Your father even managed to enjoy himself the other night, it seemed."

Hermione grinned, remembering her father's forays into the world of whist. Narcissa had whipped him for a good three rounds before he'd challenged her to a game of bridge. Hermione wasn't certain, but she thought that maybe the witch had lost on purpose, to preserve her dad's masculinity. It seemed like a Slytherin thing to do, and besides, Hermione knew how to spot the fake smile of a Death Eater anywhere; and Draco had definitely been sporting one for the sake of her father's good spirits. On second thought, maybe it wasn't a Slytherin thing to do. Maybe it was just a womanly thing to do.

And maybe she was crazy hormonal and confused. Her stomach knotted itself further and she snuggled into her mother's embrace.

"He did enjoy himself, didn't he?" she replied now to her mother. "I'm glad you like Mrs. Malfoy so well, Mum."

"Mmm," her mother responded. "She's a lovely woman. Cares about you, I think, and not just because her son knocked you up."

"Mum!"

Mrs. Granger laughed. "Well what would you call it, sweetie?"

"Blergh," Hermione said. Then she tilted her head back and looked up at her mother again. "And Draco?"

"I still think his name is ridiculous," Mrs. Granger began, while Hermione poked her ferociously, both of them laughing. "But he's a nice boy. As nice as he can be, I suppose. He likes you a lot, I can tell."

"How can you tell that?"

"He gave you that shiny new ring you've been wearing, for one," Mrs. Granger pointed out, arching a brow at her daughter.

Hermione flushed to the roots of her hair. "It's just a gift- a sort of promise ring," she finished, mumbling.

"What's that?" Mr. Granger asked, strolling into the room, the newspaper under one hand and an ale in his other.

"Nothing," Hermione and her mother chorused before exchanging an understanding glance and secretive smiles.

* * *

It was only the next day, as Hermione was double checking her trunk and other things that her mother cornered her and decided it was high time they had a heart to heart.

Hermione looked at her mother curiously as she saw upon Hermione's bed, hands folded, and asked if her daughter had things under control.

"Yeah, just about finished, Mum," she replied.

"Oh, well, that's good." She glanced about the room, a fond smile on her face. "Remember the summer we helped you choose the paint?"

"And dad threw a fit because he said 'Neon green is no color for a young lady's room,'" Hermione replied, doing a gruff imitation of her father. Her mother laughed. "Yeah, I remember. How could I forget? And he made you promise to buy me a pink bedspread, to make up for it-"

"But we got the lovely blue one you wanted instead, that had-"

"Batman all over it," Hermione replied, laughing. "The one you're sitting on, you mean."

"And then the next summer, just as your tastes were changing again, you got your letter. And we never redid it."

Mrs. Granger smiled at the poignant memory, but Hermione paused in her folding and sat down beside her. Her belly was protruding some, finally, though it still wasn't terribly noticeable, and her mother put her hand over it impulsively, then hugged her daughter. Hermione started to feel concerned.

"Mum? What's going on?"

"It's just- oh, we'll never get it redone at this point, will we? There will always be something…" She shuddered and then pulled away. "You're growing up so fast."

"Oh, Mum," Hermione began, but her mother hushed her.

"No, darling, listen to me. I just…I just want you to promise me- and your father too, really, because he feels the same way, even if he isn't saying it- I want you to promise us that you'll think very carefully before you make any big decisions."

"Like what, Mum? I'm already- I already decided to keep the baby."

"I know, my darling girl, I know." She hugged Hermione again, held her tightly. "But this other thing, with the young man in question-"

"Draco, Mum," Hermione protested and Mrs. Granger sighed and nodded.

"Yes, Draco," she said, pulling away again. She looked at Hermione seriously, searching her face. "This ring…I know you said it's only sort of a promise ring, but a mother knows, Hermione. I saw the way he looked at you and you looked at him- and trust me, teenagers don't have the exclusive rights to feelings of puppy love, or young love, or crushes. Adults remember perfectly well how it felt to be that age and feel as if nothing would ever keep them apart."

Hermione wrinkled her nose. If only her mother knew the half of it.

"Mum, I promise that Draco and I…we have no illusions about the future. Anything could happen. I know that, trust me. I'm not betting my entire life on how I feel for some boy right this instant."

"You say that…"

"I mean it," Hermione replied.

"But this ring changes things. I want you to promise me that if you ever feel differently about him, don't be afraid to let things go, to try something new. I don't want you to let promises you make to a young man when you're seventeen and hormonal determine the rest of your life."

"Mum," Hermione said, equally serious now, "I promise." If only her mother really knew what was going on- that with Draco, Hermione was trying something new. That with him, nothing would ever be certain, not until a murderous mad man was dead. That her only daughter's life was in danger every second, simply because she chose to make friends with an innocent boy her first year of school. They really ought to be giving muggle parents a lesson on current wizarding politics before they allow them to send their children off to become witches and wizards, Hermione thought. If my parents had known about Voldemort before they sent me off…

But of course, everyone had thought Voldemort was gone for good back then. She sighed and focused on her mother.

"Alright then. I'm sorry for getting into your personal business, but you are my daughter. You're my only child and I'd be lying if I said I wasn't very worried about you. Every second of every day."

"Oh, Mum," Hermione said again and this time she was the one pulling her mother in for a tight hug. Hermione suddenly felt terrible for all the lies, all the danger and intrigue. She wished desperately she could be a normal daughter for her mother, just an average girl her mum could take out shopping and to lunch; and the most they would argue about was how much make-up she wore.

But that life wasn't hers. Draco was right; she had to enjoy the small things while they lasted. There was no telling what the future held, but whatever happened she needed these good memories. Time spent with her mother, memories of decorating her room, visions of happier, more innocent days.

She had a feeling her mother needed those things, too. So, she hugged her for a very long time, until her father came to her room to see what was keeping them. And then she took up her trunk, put it in her parents' car, and they drove her into the city, to Diagon Alley.


	25. Everything Is Before You

**I don't own Harry Potter, apparently. Who knew?**

**AN: More touching scenes with a hint of drama. There will be a little filler after this and then more drama. :)**

* * *

Hermione had been having a good time at the party. Had been.

Now, she was sitting in a corner after hurling and looking extremely green around the edges. Ginny was on one side of her and Ron on the other. Harry stood on the other side of Ginny, two punch glasses in hand and assuring Ginny every few seconds that he didn't really want to dance anyway; while Ron alternately sent Harry glares for his blatant overtures to his sister and kindly, concerned looks at herself; the whole while rubbing his hand along her back in gentle circles. Ginny just looked a fine combination of worried and wistful.

Hermione finally decided she'd had enough. The twins' party was still in full swing and there were several hours to midnight. There was no reason her friends should sit around and watch her mope and be sick when she could just go to the Burrow early. Molly and Arthur would both be there- and she wouldn't even disturb their own plans, because she'd go straight up to bed…

"Look, you should all just go have fun," she said and the three of them immediately jumped to assure that no, they were already having a perfectly lovely time. Hermione tried to glare at them and realized her face wasn't working properly.

"You're looking awfully pale, Hermione," Ginny said.

Hermione thought her vision might be blurring.

"You know, I bet anything it was that bloody Malfoy," she heard Ron say. "Probably slipped you something."

But when she turned to argue with him she realized there wasn't any sound coming out of his mouth. Or was it just the buzzing in her ears that was blocking the noise?

"Ron, that was days ago- she's been at home this whole time, not to mention that women who are pregnant _do _tend to vomit" Ginny argued for her, but the words sounded as if they'd swum through an ocean of cotton to reach her brain. Hermione gulped in some air.

"I don't- I don't feel-" she began. It was as far as she got.

One of the twins came over to the group, took one look at Hermione's ashen face and drunken behavior and immediately pushed her head down between her knees. Then he yelled at Ron for not taking Hermione home sooner. Then his brother joined him and yelled at Harry for making eyes at his baby sister (while winking at him at the same time).

So in a matter of minutes Fred had managed to shuffle Hermione off to the floo with Ron and George shooed Ginny and Harry off to dance. Shortly after Ron arrived at the Burrow with a fainting Hermione in his arms, Molly shooed him back to the party. And so Hermione ended up where she'd wanted to be, anyway. Asleep, in bed, after up-heaving the rest of her dinner.

Of course, that didn't mean Ron actually left her alone, oh, no. In fact, the next day and the one after that he found all sorts of excuses to come into her room, sit on her bed, take her hand, tell her all about his incredibly boring day of reading about Quidditch and talking about how much he hated Malfoy with Harry. Occasionally he asked her how she felt. Well, that wasn't quite fair of her. He asked her several times how she was doing and if he could get her anything, but the third time she snapped at him he finally got the picture.

After he'd left for what she hoped was the last time, Ginny took his place.

"I'm sorry," she said.

"For what?" Hermione grumbled.

"For not getting Ron out of here sooner. But Merlin, he seriously is acting like he thinks- well, anyway. Now, you promised me all the juicy details. Spill!"

"First you tell me what happened after I left."

"You mean at the party?" Ginny preened. "Oh, nothing." Then she leaned forward quickly and whispered. "Just that Harry kissed me- mmm!"

"Ginny!" Hermione shrieked and the two laughed and gossiped for several minutes before Ginny returned to her original line of questioning.

"And you and Draco? What is going on?"

Hermione stopped to think. She leaned back against the pillows, rubbed the ring upon her hand, and flipped through all the lovely memories she had of him, now. He wasn't the same snotty boy she'd known and sparred with in the past. He'd changed. He was capable of change. That in itself was important. But most of all…she shook her head. Best not to let fancy take off with her. Finally, after a long moment, she spoke.

"Honestly, Ginny?" she began. "It was like a dream."

Ginny looked at her thoughtfully. "I think I can understand that."

Hermione smiled. "It wasn't even that his house is the last place I _ever_ expected to be…or to be there with him and his mother's blessing. It's more like…he was so sweet. He talked about enjoying each moment; and you know, I think that's something we all try to do. He was just so normal- not that this situation is-"

"I know what you mean."

"Do you?" Hermione looked at her friend searchingly. "That every second it was like we were a breath away from either losing it all or from becoming the people we're meant to be?"

Ginny smiled sadly. "I feel like that with Harry," she said. "Like we'll either be together forever and that's who we'll be, or we'll be torn apart by some awful thing. Yeah, I know what you mean. Like when you're so close to having something you've wanted for so long…"

"And so you worry that it will all end. Yes, that," Hermione finished. "That's exactly it. It was like a long, lovely dream. But I'm worried about school. Once we get back…everything will start to happen again. And what will happen to us because of it?"

"But you can't let yourself think that way, Hermione. If I worried about Harry, really let myself worry, it would drive me mad. You see?"

"Yeah, I can see that," Hermione agreed. She smiled wearily, leaned back again. "I'm so glad you're here, Ginny."

"Don't you mean you're so glad _you're_ here?"

Hermione laughed some and shook her head. "No, I mean, that it's you sitting here right now. Like I could seriously talk about any of this with Ron. He'd just get-" she stopped short and Ginny snorted.

"Jealous? Yeah, he would. I could kill him for doing this to you."

"No, Gin-"

"It's not right, Hermione. He signed away his rights. He chose his stupid, snogging banshee over you and his own-"

"Shh!" Hermione sat up and clapped a hand over Ginny's mouth. For good measure she quickly cast a few extra security spells and then leaned away again. "Sorry, Ginny."

"No, that's ok," Ginny replied. "I think I did forget to add those this time. Listen, we shouldn't be talking about him anyway. Go on, tell me more about Malfoy. Like did he give you that beauty, for instance?" she said, taking Hermione's hand in hers.

Hermione blushed. "Yeah," she said. "He did. It's just…a token, for now."

"For now? Hermione Granger! What is going on with you two?"

"I told you, Ginny, it was so lovely there, once we got ourselves sorted out. Everything was so out of the ordinary, so romantic-" she caught herself and flushed even more. Ginny squealed with excitement.

"I'm so happy for you, Hermione!"

She gave the other witch a huge hug and Hermione, after a second's stiffness, finally relaxed and shared her friend's enthusiasm. After all, the wizard to be who'd given her the ring was far from the man she'd originally imagined in all her most intimate daydreams and hopes; but he wasn't any worse of a man, certainly. He'd proven that once already, and Hermione had the very good feeling that, whatever new horrors awaited the students of Hogwarts, he would continue to prove himself.

She couldn't quite quell the worry in her heart for all that; but safe at the Burrow, surrounded by her dearest friends, she allowed herself to finally relax; and, for the first time, truly wish against all hope. Even a know-it-all bookworm has dreams, after all.

* * *

Back at the manor, Draco was finally tired of the looks his mother kept giving him and he turned to her, snapping his book shut.

"What?" he asked pointedly and Narcissa eyed him.

"I don't like that tone of voice, Draco," she replied and then turned back to her magazine.

Draco sighed noisily and flung his book on the couch beside him. "You clearly want to talk to me about something. I wish you'd just go on and ask me instead of-"

"Fine," Narcissa said, her voice cool. "I will. That ring you gave Hermione."

Draco was instantly on his guard. "What of it?"

Narcissa smiled…if he could call it that. He swallowed and suddenly wished he was holding his book again.

"I know you were hoping to slip that past me, young man. But it was impossible when she was glancing at it every other second. Don't think her parents won't notice it, either."

Narcissa looked smug and Draco suddenly felt like heaving all that lovely Yorkshire pudding he'd had at dinner into the nearest receptacle. Shit. Fuck, shit, fuck. Bloody hell. Her _parents_. Merlin's balls. Why the hell didn't he consider that in the equation? Her father was _sure_ to want to kill him now.

Narcissa smiled softly at the expression on his face and leaned forward. "I'm sure it's not as bad as all that, darling," she murmured. "But surely you thought about all this?"

"Actually," he began, mouth dry, "I didn't. Her father _hates _me."

"Of course he does," his mother responded. "You got his baby girl pregnant out of wedlock. Most fathers feel that way about the tossers responsible for such behavior."

Draco frowned. "Mum!"

"It's true, Draco. Now calm down and tell me what the meaning of the gift is. Are you in love with her? Have you asked her to marry you?"

"No, I-" He stopped short and stared at her. "Wait, you sounded almost…"

"Calm? Serene? Even pleased, perhaps?"

Draco gaped. "Well- yeah. Yes. Mum?"

"I like her. She's sweet and good natured. She's very intelligent and ambitious, she was raised well. And even if she is muggleborn, her parents are not poor, by any means. She comes from good stock and she's pleasant to me. She even learned to play whist, poor dear. Never mind that she's the mother of your child."

If only you knew, Draco thought. Aloud, he said, "So you approve. If I did one day ask her to marry me. Not that I'm saying I have already."

"You have my blessing, darling boy," Narcissa said, smiling at him and he felt all the air leave him. He had a brief moment of euphoria, where he saw himself and Hermione, going to uni or into apprenticeships after Hogwarts, getting engaged and then married, settling down somewhere with two children, one with pale blond locks and the other with flaming red hair…

And then reality came crashing back. There was a war coming, he was expected to let Death Eaters in the school or his family would perish, and Dumbledore was going to be murdered. By Snape. And, oh, yeah. He had to make sure Hermione delivered some other bloke's baby safely. Not that he even cared it was some other bloke's baby anymore. With an effort he drew himself back from the edge of that insanity and focused on his mother.

"But we're not talking about five or even ten years in the future, darling," Narcissa was saying. "We're talking about now and that lovely present you gave your girlfriend just a few days ago."

"She liked it," he murmured.

"I know she liked it, Draco," Narcissa sighed, exasperated. "I want to know why you gave it to her."

"Because I knew she would like it," he muttered, gaining back some ground. Narcissa glared at him.

"Young man, just because you're as tall as I am and have a wand does not mean you may back talk me that way-"

"Alright, alright," Draco hastened. "I apologize. I gave it to her because…everything will change, soon. Once we get back to school I have to be myself again, the me that everyone already knows. And she'll have to be with her friends, even when we're spending time together. Our time will be divided and things are going to get dangerous and I just wanted her to know…to have something to remind her that I care about her," he finished in a small voice. "That even if everything goes wrong, how I feel won't change."

Draco looked down at his hands, clenched into fists, and wondered what his mother thought. Did she think it was stupid? Would she chastise him that they were just teenagers, that he couldn't possibly promise his feelings wouldn't change? That there was too much at stake for such things?

When Narcissa didn't respond for a very long moment and Draco finally glanced up at her. She was staring pensively at the fire and there were tears in her eyes. After several minutes she finally gave a shuddering sigh and daubed at her eyes.

"Oh, Draco," she whispered. "My boy. Come here." She gestured to him and he hesitantly got up and moved over to sit beside her. She wrapped her arms about his shoulders and held him tightly.

"I am so proud of you, my darling son," she murmured against his brow. "Whatever happens this term…I love you and am so very, very proud."

Draco was grateful for the dim light and their close embrace. It meant his mother couldn't see the tears that suddenly sprang to his own eyes. He squeezed his eyes shut against them and hugged her tighter. He would not fail her, or Hermione. He would continue to make them both proud, or he knew he would die trying.

And no amount of Death Eaters, or Dark Lords, would stand in his way.

* * *

**AN: Oh, god, it's just my allergies making me tear up, I swear. *wanders away, muttering***


	26. Feels Like Flying

**I don't own Potter land. Um, no.**

**AN: So this chapter is a little filler-ish, but whatevs. I'm setting up for later drama. As in, the next chapter over.**

* * *

Three days later Hermione was just dragging her feet up to her single when a hand on her shoulder made her jump ten feet. Well, nearly ten feet. Hand over her rapidly beating heart, she whirled about to see Draco standing there and immediately collapsed against him in relief.

"Sorry, did I scare you-" he began, but was cut off quickly as Hermione gained her breath and senses back.

"Draco! What in god's name were you doing? How dare you sneak up on me that way-"

Flustered at her response and a little upset at her yelling at him and them only being back two days, he silenced her with a fervent kiss. Hermione was so surprised she fell back against the wall of the staircase and Draco followed her, pressing his body against the length of hers, keeping his mouth on her lips and his hands on her waist.

After several seconds of silent, heated kissing, Draco finally pulled away.

"Hello to you, too," he murmured and Hermione flushed even further, then pushed at him until he let her move. She opened the door of her chamber and allowed him inside without another word. He watched her set her things down and begin shuffling through more papers and books before he broke the silence.

"I am sorry for startling you," he said slowly and Hermione turned to him. She pursed her lips thoughtfully and sat down at her table, a stack of books before her.

"It's ok," she replied. "Just please don't do it again. I have enough things to worry about without wondering if you're going to be lurking around every corner, waiting to pounce."

"Waiting to pounce?" he responded, an incredulous look on his face. "Hermione, we're seeing each other, for Merlin's sake- not to mention all the other things. So what, are we back at the start again now that we're back at school? Going to make me grovel for your affections at every turn?"

"That's not what I meant, Draco-"

"I'm under a lot of stress too, you know!"

"Draco, that is absolutely not what I meant," Hermione replied coolly, tossing her quill down. "I'm still wearing the ring, aren't I?"

She waved her hand at him and he could see she was, indeed, still wearing the ring. He relaxed some.

"Alright, but what-"

"And I'm greeting you in all our classes and just yesterday I gave you a hug after we saw each other at dinner. In the Great Hall. In front of everyone."

Draco's mind wandered a bit at that memory, about how her arms had willingly, even gladly, slipped about his shoulders; and he'd had a nose full of her hair and her soft body against him; and it had been so lovely he couldn't breathe for a second just remembering.

He sighed and slouched onto her chaise. She rolled her eyes and picked up her quill again.

"I only meant what I said, that I'd prefer no more surprises than the one stewing in my womb at the moment, alright? That's all. Don't sneak up on me anymore."

He laid back and contemplated her for a moment. "Ok," he responded slowly. "But in the meantime why don't you tell me what the Weasel has been up to that's got you on edge?"

She dropped her quill again, this time from surprise and her cheeks turned bright red. Draco sat up.

"Ah-ha!" he crowed. "I'm right! What did he do? Tell me- I'll take care of it for you."

"I don't want you two taking care of anything to do with each other," she muttered. "And it's Ron or Ronald, or Weasley, not the Weasel. Though he's certainly been acting like one," she added to herself.

Draco frowned. "People expect us to argue with one another," he said. "They don't expect me to try and get along with your friends just for your sake, just because you're having my baby and I decided to 'do the right thing.'"

"But what if I _want_ you to get along?" she asked pointedly. "What if I'm sick of everyone being at each others' throats?"

Draco's face softened some, but not entirely. "Hermione, we talked about this."

"When? When did we discuss what either of us really wants out of this?"

"Hermione…you knew when we got back to school that things…they'd be different."

Hermione gave a frustrated sigh and stared down at her book. "I know that, I do. But it's so hard, when Ron is still trying to worm his way into the situation, and Harry is constantly suspecting you of doing something awful, or evil, and I know you're not like that! I can defend you with the truth, but at the same time I have to stay quiet and give enigmatic replies when they ask me for my opinion."

Draco's sighed mirrored hers and he watched her sadly. "That's part of why I didn't want to have to tell you about it," he said. "This secret- it has the potential to go twice as wrong as ours. I'm really no good for you, Hermione. All this extra stress can't be helpful."

Hermione was up in a flash and seated beside him before he could blink. She took his hands. "Oh, no, Draco. I didn't mean it like that. I'll be fine. I've just been worrying out loud. I- you haven't been friends with me as long, of course, but Harry and Ron and Ginny are used to it. I just get this way when I'm concerned about the people I care about." She smiled at him. "We're in this together now, right?"

"Right," he murmured. But somehow, that didn't make him feel any better. He slipped a hand along her face, cupping her cheek and tilting her head. He kissed her again, more slowly. He could feel her pulse pounding from nerves and he smiled into the kiss.

"Relax, Hermione," he whispered against her lips as he slid his other hand around her back and pulled her close.

"What, is this your answer for everything?" she gasped in return, but didn't try to leave his arms.

"When the girl I like won't shut it, yeah," he breathed and began running kisses along her jaw, up to her ear and back down her neck. She shivered in his arms.

"Draco…"

"_Relax_," he said again and covered her lips with his. Hermione could feel a slow heat building in her nether regions and she squirmed against him some; not sure if she wanted to murder him for being such an arrogant bastard; or tear off all his clothes and have her way with him. She settled for opening her mouth to his and letting him have a certain amount of his way with her, instead. After all, she was hormonal and stressed and needed a distrac- _oh._

"Draco," she breathed and he lifted his head.

"Mmm?" he responded with a lazy, satisfied smile. His pupils were definitely dilated, though his eyes were narrowed to near slits, heavy with desire. She nearly went off just from the way he looked at her. Why was it their snogging sessions at school were so much more exciting?

"Because we're not technically supposed to be having them," he replied and bent his head to his task again. Hermione ran her fingers through his hair and held him to her. She hadn't even realized she'd spoken aloud.

"Hermione, love," he murmured, "you're mumbling non stop. It's sort of flattering, but mostly I just want to hear you making those lovely- ah, there we are," he said as a long sigh escaped her lips. With both their cheeks flushed, their breath coming in short gasps, their hands tangled about one another and robes in various stages of disarray, Hermione finally begged for air.

Draco sat up slowly and hovered over her as she lay back against the chaise, catching her breath and looking delightfully flustered and incredibly turned on. He started to place more kisses along her neck and she shoved at him.

"Draco!"

"Hermione," he replied teasingly and she growled at him.

"I love it when you threaten me," he responded. "Best part of my day."

She groaned. "Draco, come on, please? Let me up."

He caught her hands above her head and held her wrists with one hand. "And why? Got somewhere else to be?"

"No, but-"

"A secret assignation, perhaps?"

"Draco!"

"Then no," he replied with mock sorrow. "I'm afraid I can't let you up."

Several more minutes of kissing followed and Hermione finally, in desperation, brought a knee up. Draco jumped out of the way just in time.

"Merlin, witch!" he hissed and she gave him a small, triumphant smile.

"It's not that this isn't lovely," she said, "but I do have homework to attend to. So unless you wanted to work on it with me, or have something important to discuss, would you mind…?" Her voice trailed off and she gestured to the door.

He clasped one hand over his heart. "I knew it! You're leaving me for your books- how can I compete with an inanimate object? My suit is in vain!"

Hermione laughed and Draco grinned easily at her. "Do you want me to stay?" he asked and she shrugged, but looked admittedly hopeful.

"We have a number of the same classes."

"We do," he replied. "And I just happened to bring my books with me. Fancy that." Not that he'd been hoping for an invitation, or anything. Not that he had zero desire to spend any time studying with his old friends. Because he did want to spend time with them. Just not as much as he wanted to spend time with Hermione.

But that was a good thing, right? It was all part of their plan to make their relationship seem more real to everyone else…not to mention make sure he captured her heart forever. Not that he was trying to do that. Much.

He sat at the table beside her and began to pull out his own things.

"So," he began, pasting a smile on his face, "what's first?"

* * *

And so their first weeks back at school went by, filled with study dates, snogging sessions, and trips to the library and infirmary. The time was punctuated by the occasional spats between Draco and Hermione's other friends, but for the most part people steered clear of them. There was Harry on one side, who refused to let people speak ill of one of his best friends, and Draco stood on the other side, daring his Slytherin cohorts to speak ill of himself, the Dark Lord's chosen one.

They were well into Hermione's fifth month and Valentine's Day was past (a most successful holiday, Draco told himself proudly as he fed Hermione more Parisian chocolates) before any sort of real altercations took place, but even then Hermione wasn't entirely distressed. She'd been expecting people to be rude to her once she started to show in earnest, and it was awfully hard to miss the pregnant student wandering about Hogwarts. That was what Hermione told Draco, anyway, when she defended the students he'd caught staring at her. Never mind that the students were boys and had been making decidedly lewd gestures with their hands.

"They're just being stupid," Hermione insisted.

"And offensive," Draco muttered, glaring at the boys in question. Hermione tugged on his arm.

"Draco, I won't stand here and be privy to this- this overblown wanking contest! Now come on," she said and he finally turned about when the other boys began snickering.

"You go on," he said coolly. "I'll be in to dinner in a minute."

Hermione glared at him, then at the boys and finally threw her hands up in disgust and stalked off to the great hall, muttering about alpha males and pack behavior. Ginny caught up with her and looped her arm through Hermione's, slowing her down.

"What's the matter?" she asked and Hermione slumped onto a bench.

"Draco," she muttered.

"What about him?" Harry asked immediately. He'd been following Ginny closely and now he sat beside them. "Has he done something else?"

"Oh, not that again, Harry!" Hermione practically growled at him. "Honestly, haven't I told you often enough that-"

"Right, that it's because of his father's status that you gain protection and so no one can hurt you, not even him. But you're not the only one who knows how to use the library, Hermione. I looked up some information on protective enchantments based on blood ties and guess what I found?"

Hermione paled and beside her, Ginny clutched at her arm.

"I was going to say that Dumbledore's trusting him should be enough for you, before you so rudely interrupted me." Hermione found she didn't have to feign the anger that hid her fear. "Harry, I really don't think-"

But Harry rushed forward, breaking in before she could stop him. "I couldn't find any evidence of such a spell working on second generations," he said triumphantly. "In everything I read, it has to be a first generation connection. An immediate family relation. You know what that means, don't you."

"No, Harry, what does that mean?" Ginny asked coolly, finding her voice. Harry faltered slightly before picking up the thread.

"Er, it means that Malfoy's been lying to you, probably. I doubt you're protected at all, unless he really is a Death Eater."

Hermione's lip quivered, but whether it was from sorrow or anger, Harry didn't find out, because just then Ron joined them.

"Oy, you know Malfoy's out there harassing some second years on your behalf?" he said, poking at Hermione.

"I was quite aware of that, thank you, _Ronald_," she replied spitefully. "It's nice to have someone whom I can at least trust to do the right thing and stick up for me when I need it."

Harry flushed. "Hermione, I'm only trying to-"

"I know what you're trying to do, Harry, and I don't appreciate it. I can take care of myself! Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to eat dinner with my _boyfriend_." And she edged off the bench with as much dignity as she could muster, and headed for the doors to wait for Draco.

Ginny glared at her own boyfriend and brother. "You two are such clods sometimes."

Harry had the decency to look ashamed, though he cast furtive glances at the same door Hermione waited at, ever on the look out for suspicious behavior. Ron only looked up from where he'd started in on his food, a slack jawed expression on his face.

"What?" he asked. Ginny shook her head and opened a book, decidedly ignoring them both.

* * *

At the Slytherin table a few days afterwards, Hermione settled herself beside a slightly surprised, but overall delighted, Draco Malfoy. Not that he could let his classmates see how delighted he was. But Hermione knew all about that, so she didn't mind. Much.

"And to what do I owe this pleasu- oof!" he said and rubbed his stomach where her elbow had hit him.

She pretended like she didn't know what she'd just done, so he pretended as well. After all, she was so out of sorts it was entirely possible she didn't know. Case in point- she'd just handed her book bag to a disgruntled and confused Blaise Zabini, who shot Draco a look that said, what the bleeding hell, you stupid wanker, tell your girlfriend to fuck off. I'd do it myself, but I'm a little scared of her. Draco sneered at him and then turned back to Hermione.

"Tell me what's wrong, love."

Hermione gave him a dark look. Despite Ginny's best efforts, Harry hadn't let up on Hermione with his theories about Draco. In fact, by her estimation, he'd only gotten worse, because he'd hidden his attempts to convince her behind his friendship. Even Ron seemed more palatable after an afternoon spent avoiding Harry's crazy theories.

"Harry is following you again," she informed Draco.

"You know, it's very flattering but- what?"

"Harry," she said slowly, "Is. Following. You. Again. He's bloody obsessed with you. At this rate he's going to start sneaking into _my_ room just to try and get more information! Do you know what he did the other day?"

"No, Hermione, because I don't follow _him _around. He's just not that interesting to me anymore."

"Well, you're interesting to him. And he's been reading up on, you know. The protection thing?"

"Ah."

"Yes, and he's so…" Hermione paused as she realized that all the Slytherins around them had suddenly grown extremely interested in their conversation. She flushed, gave a little wave, and then snatched her bag from Zabini's outstretched hands. Draco glared at everyone, and he and Hermione suddenly had a large space of table and bench all to themselves.

Hermione laughed a little and then propped her chin on her hand and watched as Draco finished his lunch.

"So," he said.

"I know," she replied. "I nearly blew that, didn't I?"

"It's hormones," Draco hazarded and Hermione frowned.

"No. Harry's really getting under my skin with this. And instead of me making things better, he just pesters me more about it."

Draco eyed her. "And what do you want me to do about it? Shall I go up to him and announce myself?"

Hermione looked aghast. "Lord, no!"

"Well, then."

"I just…I guess I just wanted to talk to someone about it."

"Oh." Draco suddenly felt a little silly. "In that case, let me put on my empathizing face." He pulled a long face, big eyes, and drew his brows together in mock sympathy. "Did he really?" he asked in a high-pitched voice, followed with, "No!" And then a gasp and a hand to his chest. "How dare he!"

Hermione rolled her eyes, but smiled some more. "You're incorrigible."

"Yes, I know. And Potter is thick. You have nothing to worry about, Hermione."

Hermione shook her head and leaned forward quickly to give him a kiss on the cheek. He took it, surprised again, and smiled back at her as she stood up.

"I have to go. I'll see you later?"

"Yeah, sure," he replied. "Feel better?"

"Not really. But that's alright. I am hormonal, after all."

"Hermione, you've known Potter for ages. I'm sure he's just being his normal obnoxious self," Draco offered.

Hermione frowned. "Like you?"

"Ouch."

"Look, it's not that," she said. "I know he's thick. But he's also very clever just when you least expect it. And he's extremely tenacious. That's why I worry." She gave Draco one more small smile. "I'll see you later, Draco."

And with a final wave, she left. Draco stared after her for a moment until he suddenly felt that inexplicable sensation of someone staring. He turned and scanned the Great Hall.

Across the hall, at the Gryffindor table, Harry Potter was attempting to surreptitiously bore holes into Draco's forehead. Draco finally noticed him, and he knew he shouldn't- knew Potter would just end up bothering Hermione more for it, but it was like he couldn't help it. Not when Potter made it so easy. So Draco smiled a slow, particularly evil smile, and then gave him a tiny wave from the tips of his fingers.

He was rewarded with Potter's face turning red in one second flat. Then Draco gathered his own things and strolled from the hall.

Ron wondered what had made Harry spill his pumpkin juice.

* * *

**AN: And how was that? You have to tell me, because I don't read minds. **


	27. Gravity Sets In

**I don't own Harry Potter, it all belongs to J.K., and I don't make any money off this fic.**

**AN: Ok, so I've run out of my stored chapters and am back to the write/post situation. Which means even slower updates, ugh. But we are nearing the home stretch, trust me. And yes, there is going to be a bloody happy ending. Sort of. Yes. No. Maybe? Guess you'll just have to wait and see, same as me! ;)**

* * *

Harry continued to pester Hermione about Draco until it was already March, and Ron's birthday. With sniffs of disdain directed at Harry, Hermione managed to avoid Lavender long enough to slip Ron his present; but after that she left him alone, much to both Harry's and Ron's chagrin.

Ron looked after Hermione's retreating form as she made her way from the common room and sighed. Harry patted him on the shoulder.

"Cheer up, mate. I'm sure she'll come around yet." If his tone of voice was a bit dubious, Ron didn't notice.

"A book on quidditch," he said as he tore the paper off. "Of course. It's such a Hermione present, isn't it?" he asked Harry, who smiled.

"I shudder to think what she'll give me. Probably a book on saving the world and defeating your worst enemies."

"Nah. Hermione's gone soft, Harry," Ron said, a wistful expression on his face as he ran a hand over the cover of the book. "Not on us, I know," he qualified hastily as Harry raised his brows. After all, she'd been particularly cagey with them both for the last several weeks. "With that lot. You know who I mean," he muttered.

Harry patted his shoulder again. "It's probably just the hormones."

"No, it's not," Ron replied. "We both know it. She really likes that ferret. I just can't believe it."

"Well, she is, er, in a family way with him," Harry said as delicately as possible. "Although I'm positive he only did it just to get on her good side. He's bloody up to something, I know it."

"Nice to know I'm not the only one mad about that," Ron joked lamely and Harry shrugged.

"What can we do about it, though? She's our best friend."

"I know," Ron said, his voice mournful. "Just have to put up with it for now, I suppose." Neither pointed out the fact that they'd hardly been putting up with anything. He turned to Harry again. "You really think she'll come around?"

"I know she will," Harry replied firmly. "Hey, how about having some of your birthday chocolate? Bet that'd make you feel better."

Ron brightened some. "Yeah. Yeah, it would. Come on, then."

And with their arms about each other's shoulders, they trudged up to their room.

* * *

Hermione was fuming over her two so-called best friends again when she ran into Draco. But looking over his pale, narrow features as he helped her pick up her things, she felt as if a weight lifted off her shoulders and her bad mood disappeared as suddenly as it had arrived. She decided not to puzzle over what exactly that meant for her feelings about Draco. After all, she already knew she loved him, or thought she did; what was the harm in his being her rock, her all around remedy? That was what people who were in love did, wasn't it? Relied on each other? She sighed and leaned against him.

Draco looked over at her curiously as he finished stacking her things. "Want me to carry them for you?" he asked and Hermione nodded gratefully, then blushed.

"That is, if you don't mind- I just bumped into you, after all; if you're busy I don't want-"

"Hermione," he said gently, "it's ok. I'm not busy." And he wasn't exactly. Sure, he'd been on his way to the Room of Requirement to work on the cabinet some more, but that could wait. He wasn't exactly eager to finish, was he? Let Death Eaters into the school to wreak havoc and place hundreds of innocent people in danger?

He'd much rather carry Hermione's books for her.

"Where are we going?" he asked.

"My room," she admitted. "I need an escape."

"So early in the day?" he teased. "Miss snogging me already?"

"Draco!" she exclaimed and smacked his arm lightly. But she was laughing as she did it and he grinned at her.

"So who was it this time?" he asked.

Hermione glanced at him and hugged her bag closer to her chest.

"Just…everything," she said. The weight she'd felt disappear earlier settled back firmly on her chest and she sniffled some. Why were her friends so dumb? And when her baby was one of theirs to begin with, too? And when Draco was the only one who was ever nice to her, or treated her regularly, apart from Ginny, who didn't count because she was a girl…and then burst into tears. Draco nearly dropped all her books, he was so startled. Some students passing them shot him dirty looks and he stared at Hermione helplessly.

"Hermione, don't cry- I'm sure it's nothing, I-"

"Nothing?" she wailed. "No-nothing? Harry hates you, a-and Ron hates you, and neither of them w-will listen to me about _anything_!" she finished with a particularly large sob.

More passing students shot him even more dirty looks and Draco managed to glare at a few of them before turning back to Hermione.

"Hermione, why don't we go to your room? You can have some tea and wipe your face and-"

"My face? Is something wrong with it? Don't like it when I cry?" she suddenly said, turning on him. But seconds later her look of anger collapsed beneath more tears and she clung to him, burying her face against his robes.

Oh, hell. Maybe the Room of Requirement had been the better choice this time. He held back a fretful sigh and managed to balance her books in one arm; then pet her hair with one hand while nudging her in the right direction with an elbow.

"Come on," he said. "Come on. Just a little further. You'll feel much better when you've some privacy. There we are."

He continued to murmur gently to her until they reached her staircase and then he managed to help her up the stairs and not simultaneously send himself hurtling back down them to his death.

With all of her things now piled in his arms while she opened her door, he made a series of displeased mumphing noises until he finally staggered into her room and dumped all of the items onto her table. Hermione didn't even bother to look at him, or get upset at his unruly manhandling of her possessions. Instead, she climbed onto her bed, stuck her face into a pillow, and commenced with more sobbing. Her ass was, adorably, sticking up in the air with her legs bunched under her like that, and Draco wondered if he should comfort her some more. While he stood and debated, he lost his chance.

Hermione rolled over onto her back and then lay there, staring up at the canopy.

"What's _wrong_ with me?" she wailed.

"You are pregnant," Draco offered and she sniffled some more.

"I know that, you idiot," she retorted, but there was no venom behind the insult. Draco decided to dare sitting on the bed after all. He patted her knee.

"And your friends are teenage boys. We can't help being complete morons from time to time. And I am a Death Eater, technically, even if I've gone double agent. So it's not as if they're wrong about me. See?"

"So, essentially, you're telling me there's nothing I can do about any of this, except hope the war ends sooner, rather than later, and that we come out on the winning side."

"And that they mature before the age of thirty-five," he added.

She snorted. "I'm sorry for attacking you that way."

"Don't worry about it," he replied. "Aside from the rest of Hogwarts now being convinced I make you cry on a regular basis, nothing happened. I'm used to it, really."

She cried a little more, though she was smiling now. She wiped her face and propped herself up on her elbows.

"Thank you."

"It's my pleasure, honest," he said. "It beats thinking about my task, anyway."

"Great," Hermione murmured. "I beat out Voldemort on the list of terrible things you have to endure."

Draco took one look at her face and suddenly burst into laughter. Moments later, Hermione joined him.

"That does sound ridiculous, doesn't it?" she asked, gasping and holding her sides.

"It's the st-stupidest thing I've _ever_ heard," Draco replied, unable to look at her without bursting into fresh rounds of laughter. "Being an unwed teenage father ranks lower than Death Eater on list of undesirable activities! Can't you see the article in Witch Weekly now?"

Hermione bit her lips to keep from laughing, but she felt as if her face were splitting. "Stop, it's too much-"

"Can you imagine showing something like that to the Dark Lord himself? Oh, Merlin, he'd piss himself, he'd be so insulted!"

"Y-yes! Oh, lord, the Prophet would have a field day! 'Voldemort promotes abstinence in teens, says teenage pregnancy detracts from business of muggle torture!'" Hermione choked out, sending Draco into new fits. "'Ministry encourages sex education among teens as distraction from dark arts!'"

"Oh, Merlin, stop-"

They clung to one another and laughed until their sides hurt, until they'd cried, until they were an incoherent mess lying on her bed, the last fits of giggles leaving them gasping for air.

It was about that time Draco remembered he was, in fact, lying on her bed with her and he thought she was very cute and wanted to snog her pretty much all the time. Even if the kid was Ronald Weasley's. That little brat was going to be his and it would never wear second hand clothing, or use second hand wands and he would give it everything it ever wanted…

Hermione gave a small sigh and he looked up at her and smiled gently, one hand splayed across her stomach.

"What are you thinking?" she asked curiously. It wasn't that he never did sweet things like that, it was more that they'd never really talked about the baby as a reality. She was always some amorphous vision ten years in the future, it seemed like. When the war was over and they'd already settled the question of parentage and having to hide things versus not hide them. And somehow, between the two of them, Ron had never come up.

He glanced back to where his hand was resting on her bump and he rubbed it across her stomach softly, then leaned up and kissed her cheek. She flushed.

"I was thinking about buying the little bint everything her heart desires."

"Draco!" Hermione laughed and swatted his arm. "Don't call her that. She's going to be a sweet baby girl. I don't want her to grow up answering to offensive names."

"Even if they're meant with affection?"

Hermione swatted him again, but he laughed and rolled out of reach. She watched his back.

"So that's what you were really thinking?"

He rubbed his hand across the back of his neck, suddenly embarrassed.

"Yeah," he admitted. "I was. About how she'd never have to use second hand wands." He ducked his head and then glanced at her again. She was still lying back on the bed, watching him with a mild expression.

"You're not mad?"

"Draco, why would I be mad? I think it's sweet. Not that I agree with spoiling her, but…it is sweet of you."

He looked mollified and gave her an almost bashful glance. "Yeah?"

"Yeah," she replied mockingly and then scooted across the bed to sit next to him.

"Well that was a mistake," he said immediately as he looked at her blushing face and wide smile.

The smile disappeared and she raised her brows. "Why? I just wanted to sit next to you- oh!"

Her words were lost to the room as Draco tackled her back to the bed and covered her mouth with his.

Oh, yes. This beat being the Dark Lord's chosen one, any day.

* * *

Someone was buzzing her room. It was nearly eleven, she'd been fast asleep, and someone was buzzing her room. Hermione sat up groggily, wondering who in their right minds would come bothering a pregnant teenage witch in the middle of the night. She felt an arm across her middle and looked over to see that Draco was lying on the bed with her.

Oh. So he was still there- and they were both still dressed, thank Merlin. She tried to remember what had happened earlier and it came back in a flood of warm feelings. Right…he'd come up to her room with her and stayed half the day as they'd talked and done work and giggled about the most inane things. And snogged. And exchanged quiet dreams about the baby inside of her. The baby Draco wanted.

She felt her face flush again and she leaned over him, landing a quick kiss on his cheek, before she slid from the bed and made her way to the door. Answering the buzzer, she heard Ginny's breathless voice, then the pounding of feet upon the stairs. A second later she was opening the door to her red-headed friend.

"Ginny?" she asked quietly. "What is it? Why are you out so late?"

"Ron," Ginny said breathlessly and Hermione noticed her face was pale, worried. "Oh, Hermione- you have to come right away."

"What is it?" Hermione had sudden visions of Ron impaling himself on a broomstick, or transfiguring himself into something terrible.

"Poisoned," Ginny managed and began tugging on her friend's arm. "Please, Hermione."

"I-" Hermione found she couldn't speak as a mindless terror for her friend and once lover- even though he'd hurt her- filled her. She cast a glance behind her at the bed, where Draco lay, hidden by shadows. Then she turned back to Ginny and gave a hasty nod. The other witch pulled her from her room and Hermione barely managed to check she had her wand and key before the door was closed and they were hurrying back down the stairs, away from her warm and cozy bed. Away to some strange horror that made her stomach churn with fear.

From the darkness of the bed, Draco remained curled upon his side, though his eyes were open. He heard Ginny's frantic words. Heard as the witch he was giving everything up for ran to the aide of her former paramour. And the cheek where she'd pressed her lips to, just seconds before, burned.

* * *

Hermione flew along the corridor after Ginny, as quickly as she could manage on legs that were starting to feel the strain of their load.

"Ginny," she called, "please- slow down-"

"Oh, Hermione. I'm sorry. I've already been, I just…I'm so worried. I knew I had to come and get you right away."

"It's ok, Gin. Let's just slow down a bit, alright? I can't run the way I used to, much to my shame."

Ginny suppressed a laugh and the two hurried at a slightly less frenzied pace the rest of the way. Harry greeted them when they arrived at the medical wing, and Hermione reached for his hands. They held to one another tightly. Harry's face was grim.

"What happened?" Hermione asked, breathless.

"Snape and the others have already grilled me," he replied. "So I guess it doesn't matter if I tell you, or not."

"Oh, Harry, just say-"

"Ron was eating chocolates that were meant for me," he began and Hermione gasped. He dropped her hands and waved her into the infirmary. "No, they weren't poisoned. But they were laced with love potion."

"Who?"

"Romilda Vane," he said, waving a hand again.

"Oh, Harry, I told you-"

"I know!" he said. "But I didn't accept them! She slipped them into my things and Ron thought they were for him, so he had some."

"I bet that made Lav-lav awfully jealous," Ginny murmured and Harry and Hermione both glared at her. "What? Just trying to inject some humor into the situation. You think I'm not just as worried about him? He's _my _brother, no matter how much a git I think he is-"

"Ginny, it's ok," Hermione said, putting an arm around her as they approached Ron's bedside. He looked so pale and ill. Hermione felt her heart clench. Git or not, father of her child or not, he was still one of her dearest friends. She sat down next to him and turned to Harry again.

"So, what did happen, if it wasn't the chocolates?"

"I took him to see Slughorn," Harry said. "I thought he could do something for him. And he offered us some mead that was originally meant for Professor Dumbledore while we waited."

"You don't think Professor Slughorn-"

"I don't know what to think," Harry replied. "But first Katie, now this? Whoever it is doing these things is getting desperate. And they're terrible at it."

Hermione went very still at the mention of Katie. After all, she knew who was responsible for that much, and she knew who was supposed to be making attempts on Dumbledore's life. But Draco had been so torn up about that…she knew he had. They'd talked about it at length, over the break. She simply couldn't imagine that it had been him behind this new horror. And even if he had been, she was sure it was just an accident…after all, Dumbledore himself was aware of the attempts. No, neither wizard would have left that mead there if they thought real danger would occur. Would they? Unless Harry had been right all along…

Ron murmured something and Harry and Ginny looked on nervously as Hermione leaned forward and took his hand.

"Oh, Ron," she murmured. No, there was no way Draco could have meant this. He was turning his whole life around to avoid such things- poison, and murders. No, he had to be innocent. They trusted one another now, loved one another. There was no way…she glanced back up at her other friends.

"So the mead was poisoned."

Harry nodded. "Ron had a drink first and seconds later he was on the ground- he nearly died. He would have, if I hadn't known about bezoars."

Hermione pulled a face. She considered pointing out that Harry hadn't known about bezoars without the so-called Prince's help, but it seemed in poor taste. Ron's fingers moved slightly and she turned back to him, tightened her grip.

"I'm so sorry," she murmured. "I wish I'd been there. I _should_ have been there. If I'd celebrated properly with you he mightn't have had those chocolates at all-"

Harry didn't respond and Ginny elbowed him before speaking, herself.

"You don't know that, Hermione. If Harry had paid more attention to all the presents he was getting from complete slags-"

Harry shook his head. "Sorry, I know you're right. But Hermione's right, too. We've been too distant this year. Everything that happened at the start…if we'd all been acting like proper friends maybe none of this would have happened in the first place."

Hermione rather agreed, though she knew he was thinking of Draco as the baby's father and not Ron. Still, she thought he was probably right. She gave a little sigh.

"I'll try to spend more time with you from now on," she murmured. Harry put a hand on her shoulder.

"Thank you."

Ginny fumed silently. She'd been desperately worried about her brother; she still was. But that didn't change the fact that he and Hermione were no good for one another.

Poppy moved up behind the lot of them and startled them all.

"Alright, I insist you all return to your dormitories. You may come back tomorrow and visit again, if you wish, but it is extremely late. Your house head made an exception just letting you in for a few minutes, tonight."

Hermione reluctantly let go of Ron's hand and then impulsively bent to brush a kiss on his brow. Then she turned to Harry and buried her face in his shoulder. He held her tightly.

"I know," he whispered. "I was terrified."

"I should have been there," she replied softly.

Harry, upon receiving a pitiful frown from Ginny, shook his head. "It's not your fault. I reckon Ron should've checked the box before he ate any in the first place. And Slughorn should have checked the Mead a long time ago. So don't worry too much. Ron will be alright. Come on, Ginny and I will walk you back."

To Hermione's horror, she felt herself starting to sniffle some and let herself be led away by the two of them, back to her room. She said good night to them both at the bottom of the stairs and then started up, sniffling the entire way.

* * *

It was only when she sat down at the table and leaned over it, burying her head in her arms and allowing herself to bawl like a baby, that she remembered who else was there.

"Hermione?" came a sleepy, but concerned voice from the bed. She whirled about and wiped at her cheeks.

"Draco! I for-forgot you were here. I'm s-sorry."

He frowned and sat up, then slid from the bed and walked over to her. He pulled out a chair and sat beside her.

"What is it? Is Weasley going to be-"

"Oh, Draco, he was poisoned! He nearly died! If Harry hadn't- I can't even think of it, it's too awful," she ended in a pathetic murmur and began crying again. Draco leaned over, touched her shoulder gently.

"I'm so sorry."

Hermione stilled and lifted her head. She gave him a suspicious look and was sorry for it the minute the words left her mouth.

"Why? You hate him."

Draco frowned. "I don't like him any, but he's your friend. Why would I ever want you to suffer that way? Why am I doing any of this, Hermione?"

She covered her face with her hands. "I know, I'm sorry too. It's just so distressing," she said, her voice high and tiny. She burst into a fresh round of tears. "Draco," she sobbed, "I have to know something."

He was immediately wary.

"What?"

"Was it…was it you who set the mead in Slughorn's rooms?"

Draco paled. "Mead?"

"Yes. It was a bottle of mead, meant for Dumbledore. Who else is supposed to be killing him but you?"

Draco sat back. "Hermione, I didn't know- I had no idea that was still- Slughorn was supposed to-" He stopped, floundering for words. She dropped her hands and stared at him again, cheeks tear-stained, eyes shining and red rimmed.

"Oh, Draco," she whispered.

"Hermione, you have to believe me," he said, leaning forward again. "I never meant for something like this to happen. Are you-" He swallowed hard. "Are you certain it was the mead?"

"That's what Harry said," she replied quietly.

"Oh my god," he mumbled and covered his own face, slumping down in the chair. "Oh my _god_. He really could have died. I could've killed someone without ever-"

He thrust himself back from the table and stood up on wobbly legs. He hated himself suddenly, more than he ever had before. Hated his life, the heritage of his father's father. He'd been right all along, that Hermione deserved better than him, that he was no good for her, that he wasn't cut out for this job. Look at what he'd managed to do, without ever meaning to! He'd nearly gotten one of her best friends a six-deep plot in the cold ground, had nearly caused her endless heartbreak.

"I have to go," he declared, voice hoarse with feeling.

Hermione looked up at him, tears still streaming from her eyes. "To your dorm? Yes, I…yes, that's probably best. It is rather late."

Draco licked his lips and watched her nervously for a few seconds before leaning down and brushing his lips along her cheek.

"I'm sorry," he murmured, and then he was gone, the door banging shut behind him.

"Draco-" Hermione called after him, but it was too late. With a weary sigh, she pushed up from the table and then tottered over to the door, shutting it tightly and locking it. Then she wandered over to her bed and flopped, fully clothed, onto the still rumpled covers where only hours before, she and Draco had been laughing merrily and enjoying confidences…among other things.

Her cheeks flushed and a second later she was crying again. Poor Draco, poor Ron. Poor Harry. Poor, pathetic all of them, in fact. She remembered her promise to Harry, that they would be friends again, the way they ought; and realized that Draco would need to know, in case he wondered why she was spending less time with him. Not that spending less time with him would be a terrible idea, necessarily. Tonight had brought home to her that no matter how in love she and Draco fancied themselves; no matter how noble his intentions in switching sides; this was a dangerous game they were playing. And people could and would get hurt, if they weren't more careful.

She sighed and rolled over, put a hand on her belly. She could feel the little one kick lightly, but it only made her more sad. What sort of world was she bringing this baby into? Intrigue, deception, danger…murder. She suddenly had the very real, terrible feeling that someone would end up dead before the year was out.

And she was terrified what that meant for them all.

With her mind full of dark thoughts, she managed to fall into an uneasy sleep; promising herself that in the morning, things would look better and she and Draco would talk again, would work it all out. But despite her hope, she kept her hands on her stomach, as if protecting the small life inside of her; and her face never relaxed into the peace of dreamless, deep slumber.

* * *

**AN: Et voila! The promised drama. :)**


	28. Falling Fast

**I don't own any of this stuff and it's all J.K.'s and all money goes to her.**

**AN: Ah, more drama on the way. Things may get very dismal from here to the end, now, but don't worry! There is a light at the end of the tunnel. An angsty, drama-lit lamp, but one all the same. ALSO, final voting is going on now at the Dramione awards on LJ and I made it through with The Better Claim to Best Dark Fic/Horror (what? I don't even know.), so if y'all don't mind heading over there and voting for me I'd be much obliged. Since, you know, I actually have plot and character development. **

* * *

The next day Harry and Hermione had classes as usual, but were given passes late in the afternoon getting them out of their final subjects so they could go spend time with Ron. Hermione was less than thrilled. It wasn't that she didn't want to see Ron, to support him and help him recover, it was just that…well. She'd had a rough night- the baby had been active for most of the six remaining hours of sleep she'd gotten. When she'd woken up she'd been tired and cranky and unable to eat because of a new bout of morning sickness; and on top of that she hadn't seen Draco yet. He'd been avoiding her all day, in fact, and it was starting to worry her. More than worry her, actually. Scare her, was more like. First he hadn't been in the Great Hall, then he deliberately turned and walked away from her at lunch, and in Potions he wouldn't even spare her a second glance.

It was after Potions, before she and Harry were dismissed for the day, that Hermione finally cornered him. Harry gave her a light frown when she held back after class, saying she needed to talk to Draco, and she frowned back at him.

"I'll only be a second, Harry. Ron isn't going anywhere. Besides, he's-"

"If you say he's just as important as Ron is, Hermione…"

Hermione's face fell. "What, Harry? What will you do? Stop being my friend? I can't bloody help-"

"You could've though, couldn't you? Back in September, before you even-" Harry stopped short, as though he realized he was about to cross some sort of line. He managed to feel contrite, but Hermione wouldn't look at him.

"Go on, Harry," she replied. "Since I'm clearly not a good enough friend that Ron needs me there, anyway. I dare say you think he's better off without me for another fifteen minutes."

"Hermione, I'm sorry."

"She said go away, Potter," came a cold voice from behind them both and Hermione stiffened, knowing it was Draco. Harry glowered.

"Neither of us were speaking to you, Malfoy, so you can just back off," Harry spat and Hermione glared at him.

"Go on, Harry!" she exclaimed, waving a hand. "I'll be there soon, but I have to take care of something first."

"With him? Really? Hermione, I was going to wait to tell you when we were alone, but I saw the handwriting on the tag that came with the mead and it was his," Harry hissed, pointing behind her to Draco. "Now tell me what is so important that you won't go see Ron?"

Draco paled, but sneered. "What the hell are you on about, Potter?"

"Harry, I can't believe you think that," Hermione replied, trying to back pedal, change the subject, _something_. This entire day was swiftly turning into a nightmare. And now they'd attracted the attention of the other students still gathering their things to leave, and even Snape had paused in his endless shuffling of papers and was staring across the room at them.

"Your handwriting was on the card that came with the poisoned mead, Malfoy, the mead that nearly killed Ron and was actually meant for Dumbledore. Surely you can't have forgotten delivering a present like that- no, wait. Don't tell me, you were Imperioused, just like your father was before you, the faking son of a bitch."

"Don't you say a fucking word about my family, Potter," Draco replied, drawing his wand at the same time Harry drew his. He gestured to Hermione. "And that goes for her, too."

"Oh, what, she's your family now? Just because you tricked her into having your bastard?"

"Harry!" Hermione gasped, tears of anger and hurt filling her eyes. "How dare you!"

Harry saw her face, realized he'd gone too far, like he was worried about just seconds before, and his face turned ashen. He lowered his wand.

"Hermione-"

"Don't," she said, drawing away from him, scrambling to pick up her bag. Her face was pinched and angry and she turned away from him. "Just…don't."

And having collected her things, she hurried out the door, forgetting all reason for staying behind in the first place. Harry swallowed hard and looked after her, started to follow her, when he swung back around, wand up once more.

"This is all your fault," he told Draco, glaring at the other boy and Draco stared back at him, disdain plain in his eyes, and along every line of his body.

"No, Potter. I believe that was all your fault. The next time you decide to accuse people of horrid things, why don't you stick to the Death Eater bollocks you're leveling at me. That's easier to swallow than know-it-all Granger being duped by said _alleged _Death Eater. Also, you won't have many friends left if you keep it up. They're already dropping like flies, aren't they?"

Harry snarled and would have gone for Draco's jugular, except Snape decided to intervene at that moment and judiciously shoved the boys apart.

"Not in my classroom," he said distinctly with a sneer at both of them. "Get. Out."

Harry glowered at professor and rival before grabbing his things and leaving. Draco would have followed him, but Snape snagged the back of his robe.

"Not you, yet," he hissed. The other students dutifully shuffled out and then Snape slammed the door of the classroom closed and let go of Draco. "What was that?" he asked, fury in his eyes.

Draco shrugged and glanced away. "Don't know what you're-"

"You know exactly what I mean. We are on the same side now, boy, and I am not about to let you ruin everything simply because you constantly feel the need to one-up that menace of a so-called chosen one."

"Too late for that," Draco replied, looking back at him. "I've already ruined everything. I nearly got another student killed- and how? That mead shouldn't have been down there! No one was supposed to drink it! Why the hell didn't Dumbledore collect it?"

"You are well aware we must make things seem real, Draco," Snape responded quietly, expression still furious.

"The only reason I agreed to any of this was because I didn't want anyone else getting hurt!" Draco cried. "Hermione will never forgive me if something happens to one of her precious friends-"

"Miss Granger is well aware of the risks involved in this scheme, Draco. And it seems to me that she's not likely to forgive her precious friends for the things they've said and done, either. So you have two choices- you may blow this entire operation out of the water now by allowing that sniveling boy under your skin, or you might want to consider ignoring him and comforting the witch you are so eager to defend."

"Like you do any better job of ignoring Potter," Draco spat.

"He is my concern, not yours," Severus replied coolly. "That is how it has always been."

"Why? Care to tell me that? Like you've done a fantastic job of looking out for him, for any of us-"

"I never have to answer to you, Draco," Snape said slowly, drawing himself up and towering over Draco. "Ever. Remember that the next time you decide to try my patience. Now get out and go find Miss Granger. I imagine she is likely bawling in one of the girls' bathrooms. Not unlike a certain young wizard we both know," he added with a sneer. Then he flung the door open and swept back towards his desk.

Draco stared after him hatefully for all of two seconds before turning and leaving swiftly, bag in one hand and wand clutched firmly in the other.

* * *

Hermione slumped against the door of the stall and allowed the angry tears welling in her eyes to spill over. How had that conversation gone so wrong? What the hell was the matter with Harry? He knew how she felt about him and Ron, knew that she'd done nothing but support them both unconditionally- mostly- for the last five, six years! And this was how he repaid her, by saying the most hurtful things and _meaning_ them. She couldn't even defend herself, though they were all untrue. Well, all except for the bit about it technically being Draco's fault Ron was in the infirmary. But that wasn't even his fault- it was the fault of the adults who were in charge of him! She turned around, pressed her forehead to the stall door, beat her fists against it out of frustration, out of hurt. She didn't know which way was up anymore, she didn't even think of Ron as the child's father, hardly, yet she was expected to go to him, to still always take his side. Harry demanded total loyalty from his friends and because she'd fallen in love she could no longer give him that.

But they weren't children anymore, she wanted to scream. Their world was changing, was fraught with danger and terror and they had to adapt or they'd be consumed whole by the evil goings-on around them! Why couldn't he see that? Why did it all have to be black and white, why was it his way or no way?

The seeds of doubt that had been planted months ago, with Ron's first turning from her, with his sweet words and the betrayal that followed, sprouted in her heart and she cried harder. She felt as though she was losing everything and she didn't know how to make it better. Even Draco, though he'd stood up for her minutes ago, had made it clear that Ron's ordeal had changed everything between them. That was why he was avoiding her- and why? Because he thought she would want to choose Harry and Ron over him? Over the sacrifices it was clear he was making for her? How could he doubt her that way? And why couldn't she be loyal to them all? What made their causes so special, that she couldn't simply follow her heart?

Exhausted from the tears and from the emotion, she leaned against the wall and slid down it until she was sitting on the cold floor next to the loo. She was so tired of all the fighting, of the intrigue. She wanted this year to be over already. And the baby…she put a hand on her protruding belly and felt it kick ferociously for a moment. It reassured her, somehow.

"Nothing is going right," she murmured at her stomach. "What do you think I ought to do?"

The baby didn't move again and she frowned to herself. Look at me, she thought. I'm talking to an infant that hasn't even been born. Like she knows any better than I do. Besides, she depends on me. Hermione closed her eyes and leant her head back as well, felt the remaining tears drying on her cheeks. I'm so tired, she thought. Maybe if I just close my eyes for a moment…

She was so weary and so tense that she didn't even notice the light cramping that began in her lower back and spread out along the sides of her abdomen. And seconds later, darkness overtook her as she'd wanted it to.

* * *

Draco pushed open the door of the third bathroom he'd decided to check and paused. There was a stillness on the air and he called out.

"Prefect entering," he said, but only silence greeted him. He moved forward, further into the space, and called out again.

"Hermione?" His voice echoed against the stone walls. Then he heard a small sound- breathing. "Is that you?" he asked, but while the breathing continued, no one answered. He walked over to the stalls and began knocking. When there was still no response, he bent over and looked beneath the doors for shoes.

When he reached the fourth stall, her face, lying still against the cold tiles, greeted him. She was asleep- no, passed out. He felt fear.

"Hermione- wake up. It's me." He reached under the door and ran a hand over her cheek. She was cool to his touch. Standing up, he spelled the door open and stepped inside, knelt to take her in his arms. She was light despite the burden of a child, and the fear morphed into something else, particularly when he saw the small bloodstain left on the tile beneath her. It was terror, perhaps, coursing through him. He couldn't quite tell. But she was breathing, at least, so that was good. Face pinched with anxiety, he left the bathroom without another word; and immediately headed for the infirmary, Hermione and her precious cargo cradled against his chest.

* * *

Poppy Pomfrey looked up from her watch over Ron and his company- Harry and Ginny- and gave a gasp.

"Over here," she said, waving to a bed behind a screen. Draco followed her orders, not sparing a glance for the others.

Harry and Ginny turned around to catch a glimpse of Draco's slim form carrying something with bushy brown hair in his arms and Ginny was out of her seat in a second, Harry close behind her.

"Hermione!" she shouted and ran over to the screen only to have Poppy stop her and shoo her away.

"This is my concern- I need space and privacy. All of you, out!" she commanded and Harry and Ginny fell back, one looking murderous and the other looking terrified.

Draco held back, standing on the other side of the bed and holding Hermione's hand. Poppy glowered at him.

"You too," she ordered and Draco shook his head.

"She's my…girlfriend," he said. "And it's my child. I'm staying. Please," he added. Poppy sighed and shook her head again, though she went ahead and began the examination anyway.

"What happened?" she asked.

"I don't know," Draco replied. "I found her in a girls' restroom. She was just lying there, looking…pale…there was some blood on the floor, underneath her- here, I have some on my sleeve-" He stopped short and looked down at the sleeve of his robe which did indeed have some blood on it. "There wasn't much, but it was enough to soak through her clothes…" His voice trailed off and Poppy glanced up at him from Hermione's still form.

"Thank you, Mister Malfoy," she said softly. "You may wait with the others." Her face was grim, and the reassuring smile or words Draco needed didn't come. He managed a stiff nod and moved out from behind the screen only to come face to face with Harry and Ginny.

"What do you think it is?" Ginny asked him and he shook his head.

"I don't know," he said, feeling helpless. And a second later, feeling angry, because Harry simply stood there, watching him with an accusing glare.

"What, Potter?" he snarled and Harry stepped forward.

"You're lying. I know you are. You've been lying all bloody year- this is all part of your plan, isn't it? You don't care if she has the baby or not, don't care what you do to her as long as-"

"As long as what, Potter?" Draco growled. "And you didn't seem to want her to have the baby earlier anyway, did you? Did you ever think that perhaps you're part of the problem, here? She doesn't need any extra stress and you go about treating her like garbage, as if she's your personal tutor, but as soon as she does something for herself, like learn to be happy without you-"

"Like she'd ever be happy with you!" Harry spat. "I know it was you behind the mead- and as soon as I have some proof-"

Ginny watched them both, horrified, and finally broke in.

"What's going on? Harry, you're being ridiculous. Malfoy's not all bad- Hermione trusts him- and what does he mean, how you treat Hermione? What's happened?"

"Your boyfriend didn't tell you, Weasley?" Draco hissed. "Let me inform you, then, that he accused her of being an idiot for trusting me and called her child a bastard to her face. He didn't use the word betrayal, but I promise that's what it felt like, to her."

"Harry," Ginny whispered, completely aghast. "You didn't."

"What, you believe him now, too?"

"Just answer her question, Potter. Tell her I'm lying. Oh, wait. Except I'm _not_."

Harry didn't say anything else, couldn't say anything else, and Ginny saw his shame.

"How dare you talk to her that way?" she cried. "How could you? If I could, I'd hex you myself- but I suppose I should let her do that."

"Nothing's stopping you," Harry retorted. "We're in the infirmary. At least I can get help quick."

"Damn it, Harry-"

"I'm sorry, Ginny! I was out of my mind over Ron- after losing Sirius how could I not be? I wasn't thinking, I was so worried and then he came along and stuck up for her and it made me so angry- I didn't mean it."

"You meant it, you bloody wanker," Draco said and Harry turned a fierce gaze upon him. Draco went on. "And how long are you going to keep using your woe is me line, anyhow? You're not the only stupid wizard to lose his entire family. There are plenty of people in worse positions than you. So you can just leave Hermione the hell alone from now on, how's that?"

"She's my best friend," Harry said, glowering, "and I don't intend to lose her to the likes of you."

"You have a funny way of treating your friends, Potter," Draco spat back and Ginny, angry and worried though she was, tugged on Harry's arm.

"Leave him alone, Harry. We're here to see Ron. Come on, come back over. Besides," she added in an angry whisper, "I want to talk to you."

Reluctantly, Harry went back to Ron's bedside and Draco watched from across the room as Ginny bent near him and began gesticulating and whispering angrily. Potter began to look suitably chastened and then the Weaselette drew Ron into the conversation, pointing at the boy's sickly face and then to herself, and waving her hands about. Oh, Potter was in for it now- yes, there they were. She was crying now and Draco glanced away just as Harry's eyes darted up to catch him spying on them.

Draco determinedly stared at the wall as the voices from across the way rose and fell. Was Potter actually trying to defend himself now? But then it didn't matter, because Madame Pomfrey was stepping from behind the screen and gesturing to himself. With one last glance in Potter's direction, he prepared himself for the worst and stepped around the screen.

* * *

**AN: Hmm hmm hmm...cookie? :D**


	29. The Wind Burns Your Face

**Don't own it, never will, no money made here, it's J.K.'s.**

**AN: Wow, been a while, yeah? Sorry about that. Just a bit longer, now. **

* * *

Madame Pomfrey glanced up at Draco as he moved behind the screen again. He was visibly worried and her own expression softened. She held Hermione's wrist in one hand to take her pulse and Draco's eyes moved from Poppy's fave to that of her ward. Hermione still looked pale, but decidedly better than she had when he'd found her on the floor of the lavatory. His eyes flicked back to Poppy's.

"How…is she?" He kept his voice quiet and Madame Pomfrey could tell he was expecting the worst. She gave him a gentle look.

"She would have lost the baby if you'd gotten her here any later," she told him and saw with satisfaction the way he sagged with relief.

"So she's ok?"

"She will be, with proper rest," Poppy said, "but I mean that. Bed rest for at least two weeks. All her schoolwork will need to be collected and she'll have to stay her for a few days before she can return to her dorm. And absolutely _no_ extra stress. She must keep calm and relaxed. Now, I'm going to go inform Professors McGonagall and Dumbledore of the situation. You may sit with her a brief while, if you don't excite her when she wakes up."

Draco nodded mutely in agreement and watched her bustle away. He heard Ginny and then Harry accost her for information, heard her explain the situation even more briefly, then give them an extra warning. He didn't draw any satisfaction from it, though, as he took in Hermione's wan features again. He couldn't help the guilt he was feeling, knowing he was as much a part of the problem as Potter and Weasley. Poor girl.

She couldn't catch a fucking break, could she.

Seeing her eyelids flutter, he moved closer and forced himself to take her hands in his, although he rather thought he shouldn't be allowed anywhere near her just then. Not when he was so clearly part of the problem- when he was so clearly a monster, being the cause of grief between her and her best friends. Turning her entire world upside down, and all because he'd had the audacity to fall in love with her, and make her fall in love with him.

She opened her eyes and blinked a few times, then took a deep breath and focused on him. He was immediately still.

"Draco," she breathed. He launched into an explanation, before she could smile angelically at him and make him feel even worse.

"You almost miscarried," he told her, voice sad and face grim. Her hands went limp in his and she swallowed.

"I thought something was wrong," she admitted, "but I felt so tired…I assumed it was just exhaustion."

"It wasn't," he said, a bit more sharply than he meant to. "It was stress, Madame Pomfrey says."

"I should've known something like this would happen," she responded quietly. "What with…everything."

"Everything, right." Draco gave a bitter laugh. "You mean me."

"What? No!" Hermione shot him a startled look. "You've been wonderful, Draco. How can you even say that?"

"Because if it weren't for me, your friends wouldn't be giving you such grief. If it weren't for me, you wouldn't have to worry about tricking the next Death Eater that tries to Legilimens you. I'm nothing but-"

"Stop it, Draco," Hermione told him, her voice steadier than she felt. "Please. If it weren't for you, my child and I would be the target of every Death Eater in a hundred mile radius. You're being ridiculous. This entire situation is stressful and horrible, you're right about that. But it would be ten times worse for me without you, trust me."

He tried to step away, but she held his hands tight and gave them a squeeze. He glanced away, but didn't try to let go again.

"Look," she said, her tone cajoling, "Harry's a complete idiot sometimes and he'll go on being one- so will Ron. That's who they are and I've known it for a long time before you and I…well. But he'll come around eventually. I'm still very hurt, but he'll apologize to me again soon, I bet."

"And then you'll go back to being best friends?" Draco asked with a slight sneer. Hermione frowned at him.

"Everything is changing," she said softly. "I know that. But I know that he needs me, no matter what he says, or how he acts. Just like I know I need you."

Draco looked suspiciously as if he wanted to cry.

"How can you simply accept all this? It isn't fair. We're just sixteen. You shouldn't have to deal with any of this."

"You're right about that, too," Hermione agreed. "But it's what we're faced with. And I can't just think about myself anymore, or what's fair or not. You understand, Draco," she said, smiling weakly at him. He sighed and rubbed his thumb over the back of her hand.

"I do," he said, looking at her again. "But I still think that perhaps it would be better for you if we didn't see each other as much in the coming weeks."

"Better for whom?" she asked, the hurt plain on her face. She shook her head. "Absolutely not, Draco Malfoy. You're stuck with me. You're stuck with us."

"We've already convinced the world we're in love, Hermione," he said, lowering his voice. "Now I just want some distance to ensure your safety-"

"You can't ensure that, Draco," she said. "You've never been able to ensure it. Not entirely. Not even Dumbledore can promise me that everything will be ok, and Voldemort is frightened of him."

"Hermione-" Draco's face was pale and pinched, but Hermione still wouldn't let go- she wouldn't let him let her go.

"Please," she whispered. "I trust you, as much as I can right now. I need you to trust me, now."

"In spite of your friends, despite the fact that you're in a hospital bed right now?"

"Yes," she replied firmly. "But not in spite of those things. Because of them. I know what I'm doing. I knew what I was doing the minute I agreed to everything."

"And if the danger becomes too great?" Draco went on, pushing the issue, unable to allow her to make what he saw as the biggest mistake of her life. "Hermione, don't think I want this. I love you, or as close to it as I can get, but you have to admit that this situation isn't good for you."

"I'll admit no such thing," she shot back. "Not unless you're willing to admit the same for yourself."

"How can I?" he said with a weak laugh. "I'd never say the same- you're one of the best things that's happened to me in the last year. I can at least be happy with you, even if I am worried sick."

"There you are," she responded, and if she seemed slightly out of breath, neither noticed or cared. Draco leaned over and placed a kiss on her forehead and she tugged on his robes until he met her lips instead. When he pulled away, he gave her a soft, brave smile. She returned it readily.

"I will have to focus on my task more in the coming weeks," he informed her and her face fell. "But I'll still see you everyday," he added quickly. "And I'll be taking your notes for your missed classes. I know Potter takes them for shit."

"Oh, thank you," she said, rolling her eyes. Her face grew somewhat pale with the effort of conversation. "Just don't ignore me again like you did today. I can't…it was awful."

"I'm sorry," he whispered. "I thought it was best-"

"Well it wasn't," she interrupted. "Don't do that again. Ever. Don't abandon me."

"Ok, ok," he said. "I promised I wouldn't, didn't I?" He gazed down at the hand that bore the ring and she smiled up at him.

"You did."

"So you can hold me to that, from here on. Now," he went on with a look over his shoulder, "you'd better get some rest. Pomfrey will be all over me if you're still awake when she comes back."

"Alright. See you tomorrow, and Draco- thank you."

He lifted her hand to his lips in response and then backed from the area, holding eye contact with Hermione as she watched him go sleepily, before her eyes finally fluttered closed. Draco wondered if they would ever be able to truly surmount the difficult days that lay ahead of them, or if they'd be stuck in this holding pattern the rest of their lives.

And then it didn't matter because Madame Pomfrey and McGonagall were bustling past him into the screened area with nary a sideways glance at him; and then he was being accosted by Harry-freaking-Potter yet again.

"What did you say to her?" Harry demanded of him. Draco decided he just didn't have the energy for a good sneer. The only good thing in his life besides his mother was lying in a bed, pale and ill and had nearly lost the baby that they were both giving everything to protect.

"Sod off, Potter," he said. "I'm not in the bloody mood. For your fucking information I tried to tell her that I'm no good for her and she's begged me to stick around, so you tell me: what the hell am I supposed to do? If your main concern is her well-being, then in order for her to have a stress free life she apparently needs- or at the very least, wants- me in it. Are you going to continue to be a part of the problem, Potter, or are you going to be part of the solution and start focusing on the things that really matter, for once?"

Harry was speechless and Draco gave him one more once-over, managed a derisively raised brow, and then swept away, leaving the scrappy lad staring after him in puzzlement. Ginny moved away from Ron's bedside to stand beside him and stare after the tall blond with a matching look of confusion on her face.

"What did you say to him?" she asked echoing his own question from a minute before.

Harry sighed.

* * *

Hermione slept through most of the prodding and conversation that went on around her the rest of the day. All she knew was that she was tired and her baby was once again safe; that her friends still cared for her; and that Draco would not attempt to leave her again as he had today. She also knew, somewhere in the haze of exhaustion and pain, that things were not going well. She knew that Draco's task was bringing them all- the entire school- into more and more danger. She knew that Harry wasn't any closer to helping Dumbledore solve the riddle of Voldemort's power than he needed to be- than he ought to be, at this point. And she knew that she couldn't save both boys- she could barely save herself, after all. Oh, she was going to try her best. She'd help Harry by pushing him along and she'd help Draco by continuing to love him. But at the very end of the day, she'd be forced to make a hard choice unless the war ended this year.

With Draco's being a double agent now, he'd be in that role until Voldemort was killed…or he died, himself. Whichever came first. And if she chose Draco, for her baby's safety…then she'd have to leave Harry behind, because Draco's double agency was different than Snape's. With Snape, he was already a member of the Order. Draco was understood to be a Death Eater, through and through. There would be no meetings at Number Twelve, no stolen kisses when he came to play his part at Order meetings. Not once school ended, anyway. He'd continue to live at the Manor and work for that madman…

And she also knew that he somehow believed he deserved that life- the life of imprisonment and torture. The one where he had to do bad things for a bad man, because it was all he was really good at. She knew that Draco Malfoy felt very deeply that he was not a good person; and unless she chose him utterly, she didn't see how she could convince him otherwise- even if no one really knew what a good person was.

Not that Draco would listen to an argument like that. He'd never let her explain how Dumbledore was far from good, or how Harry, though the world thought of him as the chosen one, was a teenaged idiot with as many hang-ups as a middle-aged Death Eater. (Though he might believe her on principle alone, if it came to that.) Even the Weasleys, bless their souls, were deeply and bitterly prejudiced against Draco and his brand of purebloods as the Malfoys were against them. And dear, sainted Sirius…well, suffice to say that no one in this situation was entirely good or evil, save Voldemort, who was simply a psychopath.

The bottom line was that Draco's underpinnings were bullshit. All the people they knew were flawed, deeply and, in some cases, fatally. And just as she knew she'd have to choose by the end of the year, she also knew that Draco would never overcome his own flaws until he was ready to, no matter how much she loved him.

With a restless heart, she forced herself to relax and go back to sleep. There was only one thing she had any remote amount of control over, and that was her child's health and safety. And if she wanted to be in any condition to help any of her loved ones and friends, she needed her own health, too. So, she kept her eyes closed and continued to drift away into darkness, all the while praying for answers she knew she'd never find.

* * *

**AN: Oh, the drama! The angst! Boohoohoo! **


	30. Picking Up Speed

**Don't own any of this stuff, HP, whatevs. It all belongs to HP Lovecraft, I mean, uh, J.K. Rowling. Yeah, that one.**

**AN: Drama! Please, give me cookies, people. I live for them, especially after being away for so long. **

* * *

And then things fell apart.

Harry'd been expecting it to happen, and Hermione had definitely been expecting it to happen- mostly because she knew for sure things would fall apart. But it _didn't_ happen quite in the way either of them thought it would. In fact, it was a slow, messy descent the next month of school, between the tense silences and tenser conversations.

Poor Madame Pomfrey. She'd meant well with her admonitions about Hermione's stress levels, but there was really no helping it. In fact, aside from missing more school than she'd ever missed in her life due to bed rest, Hermione wasn't any better off emotionally than she'd been the minute she'd found out she was pregnant.

Harry put the icing on the proverbial cake one afternoon, a couple weeks after Ron had recovered. Hermione had been carefully balancing her time and Harry had treated her like fine china, after multiple beatings by Ginny. Hermione had been right when she'd told Draco he would apologize; he had the same day and though things weren't the same, she knew he essentially meant well. Or at the very least, she attempted to understand.

It wasn't as if Harry was under less emotional stress than she was, after all. Sure, he wasn't carrying a baby, but he was the bleeding chosen one, after all. He'd have a life or death match with Voldemort likely before he came of age and Hermione _knew_ how much of a toll that must take on him.

Still, she hadn't expected him to let off steam in the way he chose. She'd figured quidditch would get uglier, or that he'd blow up some crap in the Room of Requirement. Instead…

Instead, Harry found Draco one afternoon after a particularly bad study session in which Hermione was constantly at his throat when she wasn't in a stony silence from ignoring Ron's attempts at guilting her into paying attention to her. Mainly because he'd been at her throat, as Ginny pointed out. But that didn't make him feel any better. Only made him feel worse, in fact. So when he saw Draco rushing away after he'd bumped into Katie Bell…well. His temper got the better of him, again, and before he'd even processed the stimulae, he was rushing after the other boy, following him into the restroom, confronting him, then shouting, and then one of them- himself, Draco, _whomever_- took aim and fired.

And now, well. Now, Harry was trudging ever so slowly up the stairs to the tower, to contemplate his misery at having nearly killed someone, at having so nearly become the thing that he hated and feared, at having so nearly destroyed the hopes of one of his very best and dearest friends.

Hermione was like a sister to him- a sister, in a world where he had so little family left- and he'd mistreated and taken advantage of and abused her vilely, terribly these last several months. And all because…and all because a boy he detested had decided he loved her.

Because that was the one thing he couldn't deny any longer, no matter what Draco was, truly, or what other evil plans he had in mind, or was being forced to enact: he loved Hermione, in the way Harry didn't. In the way Harry loved Ginny. And he'd seen it, plainly, on the other boy's face as they'd dueled, and Draco had shouted things at him, awful pleas to stop, to think of Hermione, to think of anyone but his own shameful, helpless rage at being so _powerless_…

He wondered if Hermione could forgive him this. Wondered if he deserved her forgiveness anymore. With a lengthy sigh, he paused before the painting and glanced up at it as she hummed some tune to herself.

"Why, what's wrong, dearie?" she asked him and he shrugged.

"I'm an idiot."

She opened her mouth as if to reply and Harry went on.

"No, I'm worse than an idiot, actually. I'm a terrible friend, and a pretty awful human being, and while I'm at it, let's add fucking horrible chosen one. I reckon I couldn't do the bloody right thing if it was right in front of me, damn it!"

And he drove his fist into the wall beside the portrait to punctuate his statement.

Upon hearing his howl of pain, the portrait swung open and Ginny poked her head out.

"Oy, Ron, is that- Harry! What are you- Merlin, Harry, what did you do?" She dashed out of the entrance and bent over Harry's hand to inspect it, forcing him to stop waving it about. The portrait swung closed and the Fat Lady looked down at the pair smugly.

"He's punishing himself for being a terrible friend, and human being and, oh, um, chosen one," she finished waving a hand. "Anyway, either convince him to go inside or go to the medical wing, but will you two just stop blocking the entrance, please?"

Harry managed to clear his head from the pain enough to look about. "But- there's no one here," he said.

"Well, not now. But there may be. Very soon, especially, considering how loudly you screamed when you banged your fist into the wall."

"Oh, Harry!" Ginny exclaimed, looking up. "You didn't!"

" I did!" he suddenly shouted at her, turning on her with all the viciousness he felt towards himself. "I did and I ought to do it again, and again, until I can't pick up a bloody wand any longer because I- I nearly killed someone today, Ginny. I nearly-"

Ginny stood back from him quite calmly and took his lashing, for all that her face was crumpled rather pitifully. Then she straightened up and took his injured hand between hers again, once he was crying and not shouting any longer.

"You? Kill someone? Harry."

"I did, Ginny, I-"

She felt a tightening in her chest. Hadn't there been enough damage done?

"Harry, no." When he didn't say anything further, just stopped his pathetic tears and looked up to her again, his face quite serious, she shivered.

"When?"

"Just now," he replied quietly. "Just-"

"Where?"

"Loo. Followed him. Snape is with him-"

"Oh, Harry," Ginny whispered, mostly because with those words she didn't even need to- didn't dare- ask who the victim was.

"Ginny," he whispered in return, and his eyes were so empty it frightened her terribly. She stroked one hand over the injured fist gently and then pressed it up against his chest, urging him to cradle it against himself.

"Go to the hospital wing. Get something for that. I have to go tell Hermione."

Harry shook his head.

"Harry, she has to know. Did you think she wouldn't find out?"

"That's not-" He stopped short, closed his eyes, and when he opened them again they were a little less empty, for all the resolve she saw there. "I have to tell her."

"I don't know if that's a good idea," Ginny replied.

"My fault, my chance to own it. Let me, please."

Ginny swallowed hard and prayed a professor would reach her room before they did.

"Ok. Let's go, then."

She started to move past him, down the staircase, and he called after her. Ginny paused and turned to glance up at him.

"I'm sorry, Ginny."

"Why are you apologizing to me?"

"Because. You deserve a better boyfriend. One that isn't angry all the time, that doesn't argue, or get in fights, or-"

"Harry," Ginny said gently, "you're the boyfriend I want. Sometimes…well, sometimes you scare me, but never in how you are to me. You never have to worry about that. But if you need forgiveness, or absolution right now, for what's just happened? I can't give it to you. It's not mine to give. But I'm not going to let you go through this by yourself, either. Ok?"

"Ok," he replied softly. Then, after a moment of indecision, Ginny reached back towards him, one hand outstretched. After an equal hesitation on his part, Harry reached out and took it in his good hand. Then the two of them made their way back down the staircases and across the school, to Hermione's room.

* * *

Hermione's eyes got very big for a second, then began to blink furiously as she fought off the tears filling them. Her chest felt very tight and her heart, she was certain, had stopped beating, and none of this could be good for the baby. The baby she'd been as no nonsense as possible about in the last month, the baby she loved anyway, the baby Draco loved-

With a ragged gasp she heard air filling her lungs again and she felt behind her for a chair and sat down slowly, easing into the seat.

Not good for the baby, definitely not. Or for her. Or for its father. Well, step-father. Like it bloody well mattered anymore.

She may have let out a little scream or two. Little, painful noises that were barely more than wind rushing across her cords, but they felt full blown in the silence that was her mind at that moment. Uncomprehending, denying silence.

And then the world crashed back into focus through her tears and the noise rushed back into place in her head and she gripped the arms of the chair she was seated in as if her life depended on it.

"Get out," she said.

"Hermione," Harry breathed.

She turned her head away from him, stared instead into the fire that suddenly roared into place in her grate, and acted for all the world as if he wasn't standing right across from her.

Ginny watched all this and wondered if it was possible for her heart to break for two people. You two need each other, she wanted to scream at them both, but it was really too late for that. Harry finally realized it, only he'd already made the one mistake Ginny wasn't sure Hermione could forgive just then. And he knew it, and he'd wanted to come anyway and tell her himself. Ginny wasn't sure if it was bravery, or love, or stupidity that had made him do it.

"So is this it?" he tried again. "Are you-"

Hermione whipped her head back around and pinned him with a deadly stare. One that dared him to go on. He shut his mouth.

"Don't patronize me, Harry, you're no good at it," she spat. "Now get out. I'll probably forgive you someday, because I love you, but for god's fucking sake if you don't learn to control your temper and think before you act, I will not be held responsible for any of it."

He opened his mouth again and she went on.

"I don't want to hear it. You've apologized, you've given me the bad news, now get out. I told you, again and again and again, but could you ever just trust me? Just once? Damn it, Harry! I-"

She drew a deep breath and stopped short, glared at the fireplace again as her eyes welled with more tears.

A second later she heard a resigned sigh, footsteps, and the click of her door opening and closing. Only then did she give in to her tears and lean over the table, sobbing to her heart's content. How had they come to this? At such odds, and all to protect this little life…if only she could have just told him, then maybe…but no. What had happened today only proved they were right to keep it from Harry. He'd never have understood, never gone along with it. He was too emotional himself, too wired up in everything to accept what simply needed to be done. It broke her heart.

She continued to cry and finally felt a presence behind her, felt Ginny's hands caress her back and brush her hair from her face. She pulled away from the other girl reluctantly.

"You should probably go to Harry," she said softly, wiping her face and sniffling.

"You need someone here," Ginny replied.

"No," Hermione said. "I'm going to head to the hospital wing in a minute, myself. To see Draco. They've probably called Narcissa already, too. I should be there. He'll want me there."

"Are you sure?"

"Ginny, Harry needs you. This…I'll forgive him. I always do. But that doesn't mean I have to want to see him right now. But he needs to see someone, to know that he's still alright. When he gets like this…"

"I know what you mean," Ginny said. "It scares me too. Ok, I'll go. But only if you're certain-"

"I am," Hermione replied. "And Ginny-"

Ginny stopped short and went back to her friend, hugged her tightly. "I know, Hermione. You're not going to switch sides, or anything stupid like that. Just because you don't want to see Harry right now doesn't mean you can't see me, or even Ron. But Draco will need you more. For the ruse. And because you two…well, because you are who you are." She stood back and looked Hermione in the eyes.

"That about it?"

"Yeah." Hermione smiled sadly. "I'm sorry about all this, Ginny. Regretting any of it about now?"

Ginny was quiet for several seconds and eyed Hermione.

"Are you?" she finally asked.

"Yeah," Hermione repeated softly. "All the time."

Something flickered across Ginny's face and she hugged Hermione once more.

"Don't. There's no point. We only have what's in front of us, right?"

"Gin-"

"Don't," Ginny said, more firmly. "Now, why don't I walk you as far as Pomfrey's, at least, since Harry's likely stopped there for something for his fist by now."

"Not if I know Harry, he hasn't," Hermione replied. "Go on, Ginny. I'll be fine. Off bedrest now, aren't I?"

"Humor me."

Hermione managed another smile, this one a little less sad, and wiped some more tears away.

"Fine. But only because you're more stubborn than me."

Then, as she had less than an hour before, Ginny held out her hand to one of her dearest friends and led her down the hallways and up the staircases of a school that was feeling increasingly small for the size of the problems their lives had grown.

* * *

**AN: Whew! Sorry for the lateness of this update. We're really nearing the end of things now. Say...five or six more chapters, depending on how much I feel like including in each chapter. And some heavy, heavy drama is ahead. But! Never fear, for there will be a happy ending. Just probs not quite one you're expecting. **


	31. The Ground Rushes Up

**I don't own HP at all, period, ever, make no profit here. It all belongs to J. and co.**

**AN: Ok, so two chapters coming up full of action and drama. Hope you're ready!**

* * *

Draco cracked his eyes open and peered about himself as best he could, which wasn't much. He felt…like the Hogwarts Express had used him as a piece of track. For the entire trip to Hogwarts. And back again.

No, that wasn't quite right. Maybe he felt more like Voldemort had used him as his personal practice dummy. The Cruciatus Curse made one ache in places one didn't even know existed, right? Or perhaps he felt as though he'd been dragged across hot nails, face down.

Or maybe he just felt like Harry Potter had tried to kill him by slicing him open.

Yeah, that was it.

With some effort, he opened his eyes a little wider and tried to speak. Someone was by his side in an instant, helping him sit up, pouring something down his throat, then gently laying him back down. His eyes flicked over the face of his helper and he managed to croak something out.

"You don't look like Pomfrey."

"Because I'm not," Severus snapped at him, though his brow was furrowed deeply with concern. "The curse you took is one of….my specialties. Therefore I'm best suited to look after you in these early stages of your recovery."

"So I will recover?"

"You're not dead, are you?"

"Beats me. I always figured I'd go to hell and here we are, so-"

"Flippancy does not become you in this situation, boy."

Draco fell silent and Snape fussed over him a bit longer before standing back and relenting.

"What were you thinking?" he asked in a low voice. "Confronting Potter?"

"I didn't," Draco replied. "He followed me. Like I'm in any shape to confront anybody these days."

"Well you certainly aren't now. Gods help us, I don't know how you're going to get through the rest of your task-"

He broke off Madame Pomfrey rounded the corner, a jar of salve in her hands.

"Here's what you asked for, Severus. Though why you couldn't just use-"

"Thank you, Poppy, that will be all," Severus responded coldly. Poppy gave a distinct harrumph and then left. Snape turned his attention back to his pupil. Without any ado, he deftly unbuttoned the pajama top Draco was wearing and separated the folds to expose his chest and abdomen. Draco started to look down at himself, but Snape caught his chin in one hand and met his eyes.

"Don't, Draco. It's better if you try to forget it entirely."

"Forget it?" Draco hissed. "Like it was just a bloody bad dream, Potter trying to kill me, just standing over me and watching me bleed as if he'd never seen it happen? Just bloody standing there-"

Draco broke off and jerked away from Snape as he felt tears choking him, streaming from his eyes. The sobs that would have wracked his tired body never came, though, because his still healing body was too weak to support them. So he suffered on for some minutes, staring at the wall blankly as tears fell, coughing pitifully when he wanted to scream, to howl his grief at the obscenity of it all. They were bloody children, supposed to be in the safest place for them, and here they were, at war with one another, pawns in the schemes of adults who were too impotent or too cruel to do for themselves. And as a result he'd nearly killed two students, might very well lead to the injury of others, and Harry fucking Potter couldn't even kill someone properly.

They were all doomed.

Severus let him cry for a few more minutes, then peremptorily rolled him back over and began applying the salve to his chest. Draco continued to sniffle through this process and when the noise finally stopped, Severus spoke, not looking up from his task.

"Feel better?"

"A little," Draco admitted.

"You're not wishing he'd succeeded, are you?"

Draco managed to snort at that. He would've rolled his eyes, too, but it just took too much energy.

"Hardly. I don't want to die. I might think things like that from time to time, but that's what you do when you've just been the cause of a fellow student's cursing. I mostly just want this to be over."

"Good. Well, under no circumstances-"

"I'm not going to go after him for retribution or something equally stupid. He's fucking dangerous."

"Language."

Draco did roll his eyes then. Snape expelled a small breath.

"You are dangerous as well, Draco. Don't forget that."

"What are you talking about?"

Snape would have gone on, but just then the sound of students at the door of the infirmary interrupted them.

"Ah, it seems you have visitors. That is my signal to-"

"Wait, Professor, what did you mean?"

Severus paused and glanced back at him, the concern on his brow still quite evident.

"Just that, Draco. We are all dangerous to one another right now. As we are all in danger. And Draco…"

"Yes?"

"You may want to button your shirt again."

Draco glanced down at himself, flushing, but realized that any sort of scars he might currently bear were all covered by a thick layer of the shiny, green salve. He wrinkled his nose and buttoned his top back up anyhow, then lifted his head to see Snape had snuck out, only to be replaced by Hermione standing at the foot of his bed, his mother right behind her.

"Oh, Draco," Hermione breathed, her lip quivering, and he felt his heart respond. Of course he would survive this. He had every reason to, right? Narcissa didn't say a word, just walked around to one side of him and leant over, pressing a kiss to his forehead.

"My son," she murmured, tears shining in her eyes.

"Mother," he whispered, then swallowed hard. Narcissa kissed him again, then straightened up, though one hand stroked his hair protectively, gently. She glanced up at Hermione, who was staring at Draco, her face drawn, eyes glassy with tears.

"I've been here a while already," Narcissa said, "working things out with the Headmaster and Severus. We're hoping to keep this fairly quiet, for the sake of the task. I just wanted to stay until you woke up, make sure you knew. Make sure…but I can stay longer if you want me to."

Draco held back, wishing she could stay, no, wishing suddenly that he could simply go home. But that would hardly do him any good, either.

"Go home, Mother," he said. "I'm alright now."

"Ok," Narcissa said. She ran a hand along his face, cupped his cheek. Then she pressed one last kiss to his pale forehead and swept away. She paused only at Hermione's side, to gently squeeze the girl's hand, before she left.

Then there was just the two of them, staring at one another, neither moving or speaking for what felt like a long moment.

"I'm so sorry," Hermione finally ventured, though she didn't move from her position. Draco blinked at her wearily.

"Why? You're not the one who tried to kill me."

"No-"

"And so maybe I deserved it, too," he said softly. "Just a little, don't you think? After all that's happened?"

Hermione shook her head.

"How can you even say that?"

"He's not the only one I've been awful to. You-"

"All that's behind us!" Hermione replied fiercely. "We agreed to all of this! And that…it's over. All we have is now," she finished, echoing Ginny's own admonitions to her. But it didn't make it any less true. She watched Draco's face, his body, and he finally closed his eyes.

"Fine," he breathed. "I don't want to argue about it. Not now."

"Not ever," Hermione said. "There's no point."

"Alright, alright," Draco said, opening his eyes again, cracking a smile and then wincing. Hermione was at his side in a second, but before she could reach down and kiss him, embrace him, he'd settled one hand on her belly and was caressing it, his face serious.

"Draco?"

He addressed her stomach.

"You hear that? All this is for you. I hope you're grateful, little witch."

"Draco!" Hermione gasped and grabbed his hand away. He smiled up at her weakly and she couldn't help returning the small grin. "Well, I'm glad you're feeling better, at least."

"Me too," he replied.

"And that…you're…"

"Still alive?"

"_Draco_."

"Hermione."

Their conversation ground to a halt briefly while she battled off more tears. Always the brave one, she was, he thought mildly.

"Why don't you pull up a chair. Sit with me a while."

"As long as I'm allowed," she murmured. "But alright."

"So," he went on, once she was settled, "how are you?"

"Me?" She looked up at him, startled, and then realized what he meant. She put a hand on her stomach and thought for a minute, then looked at him again. "Ok. We're ok. I was devastated when I heard, of course, but…no. Everything else is fine, at least."

"Good." He gave another weak cough and licked his lips, stared at her some more. As if he wasn't sure he'd ever see her again. Then again, he hadn't been sure of that, just a few short hours ago.

"I'm not going to see Harry for a long while," Hermione said abruptly. He gave a small start and examined her as closely as he could. She was nervous, and perched on the very edge of her chair, hands clasped across her stomach protectively.

"Why?"

"Because. With what's happened…I can't take it. He's been such an idiot all year…and I love him, like a brother, and he knows that. He knows I'll forgive him anything, but I can't be around him right now. Not after this. Not with how dangerous things have gotten."

There was that word again. Danger. They were all dangerous. He licked his lips again.

"Hermione…he's the better friend to have right now, not me."

"Oh, don't even bother with that, Draco. We've been over everything already and you're not going to change my mind. For my own mental health- maybe for his health, more like- I just can't stomach him right now. He needs to straighten himself out, for once. I clearly can't do it for him. So."

"So," Draco repeated. "What will you do, then, until school ends?"

"I've been thinking about that," Hermione said. "I even talked it over with Ginny, on the way here. She agrees with me. I only have to write my parents about it, but I think they'll support me too. What I'll do…I'm yours. From here until the end of school. By then the baby will be due, or very soon, at least. Once I've had her, I'll leave her home with my parents. We'll work out some way of protecting the three of them. And then…and _then_ I'll do whatever I have to in order to help Harry. But until then, I'm yours."

"Hermione," Draco said slowly, "are you sure about this? Things are going to get very bad. What I have to do…the Order will be in the know, Hogwarts will be adequately protected, but that's still no guarantee…"

"I know all that," Hermione said. "And it's not as if I'm going to follow you around like a lost puppy. And I have no desire to chum about with your Slytherin friends. But as for my friends, my best friend…"

She trailed off and looked away, out the window. Draco wondered what she was thinking about, before another worry crossed his mind.

"Hermione, the baby- would you really leave her alone with your parents?"

"I might have to. Just because I chose to have a child doesn't mean I can avoid the fight. I'm a useful person, you know. They need me. Harry needs me. Just…not right now. But he will, and I have to be ready for that."

"But, your baby- right after you've had her? You can't-"

"Don't try and tell me _now_ what I can and can't do!" Hermione cried out, before lowering her voice again. "All this year that's all anyone's been saying and I'm sorry, but I don't really have a choice in this, either. I knew, before I fooled around, before I decided to keep the baby, before everything, that I'd be in it with Harry, and Ron, helping to defeat Voldemort-"

"Hermione, please-"

"-and I'm hardly going to sit by just because I've a baby. Even if I want to be there for her, I can't! I want the best for her and the best means making sure there isn't a god-awful madman running amok all over the countryside, killing her kind, you see? Don't you see that, Draco?"

He was quiet, but reached out and took her hands in his, forced her to look down at him, to calm down.

"I see," he said quietly, over and over. "I see. I'm sorry."

"Me too," she whispered, awkwardly bending over their hands, wiping her cheeks against his bed linens. "I'm so sorry for it too, Draco. I wish it didn't have to be this way. I wish I could just be…normal. If that even exists."

"I doubt it does," he replied. "But it's ok. Who wants normal?"

Hermione laughed some and lifted her head again, straightened out her now protesting back, and they regarded one another silently again until, some moments later, Draco spoke, a small smile curving his lips. That ghost of a smirk.

"So," he said, "mine for the rest of term?"

Hermione wasn't sure if she should be horrified or laugh.

* * *

**AN: Cooookie?**


	32. The End Is Near

**Don't own this at all! Not even the plot! It's all J.K.'s and I make no money! (Really, I don't. Ever.)**

**AN: Ok, so chapter one of impending drama. **

* * *

It was early June, and even though there wasn't a cloud in the sky and a breeze was rustling through her curtains, sending warm air across her face, a portent of good things, alive things…Hermione was uneasy.

It had been weeks since the incident with Draco and while it had taken Harry the first one to realize that Hermione meant what she'd said, the rest of that time Hermione'd had no contact with him, aside from the occasional glance across a room. It hurt to admit it, but it was incredibly unsettling, not talking to him. Feeling as though they were fighting. Because as much as Harry needed her…she needed him, too. He was like her brother, after all.

But even so, she'd seen evidence of their separation in him, too. Good evidence. He'd grown quieter, calmer. He looked thoughtful more often. And he'd been single-mindedly pursuing the memory, Ginny had told her recently. Like he should have been doing all year long. So, she knew she'd done the right thing. Serious actions demanded serious consequences, and cutting off a friendship like theirs was serious enough to pass that message along.

Enough, it had told Harry. Time to grow up mentally, too. Long enough to do what's being asked of you. Your childish temper tantrums won't be tolerated anymore and they're far from useful. They're downright dangerous. So fix it.

That was what her eyes asked , no, _told_ him every time they met his across a room, or crowded hallway. And his replied that he was working on it. And Ginny confirmed it when they met for studying, or gossip, or just because Hermione needed to be around someone she _knew_ was sane and good.

Because, while she'd said she had no desire to chum with Draco's friends, that's what had inevitably happened, on more than one occasion. Not by either her or Draco's efforts, certainly. It was hardly his fault the others were treating him like the chosen one of Slytherin, their very own Harry Potter-like figure in these dark, uncertain times.

Oh, wait. Except it was his fault, since he'd consistently had to drum up support for himself and buoyed his own reputation by bragging about being a Death Eater. Damn it all. She loved him, but sometimes he made her so angry-

The door of her room sounded with three loud knocks and voices called out to her.

"Hermione-"

"Ginny, come on, then. Like she wants hear about him-"

"Oh, please, stop being such a bloody ponce, Ron! You're such a git, sometimes, I swear-"

Hermione made it to the door as quickly as possible and swung it open.

"Hi," she said to Ginny and Ron, who were tangled in a knot as Ron had clearly been trying to keep Ginny from knocking. Ron flushed an angry pink and withdrew, looking away, but he didn't go back down the stairs. Hermione looked to Ginny.

"What's going on?"

"Harry went to get the memory," she breathed. "Ron just told me, over two hours after he'd gone. He used some of the Felix-"

"Oh my god, that's brilliant!" Hermione exclaimed. "I can't believe I didn't think of that sooner!"

"Well, it's no wonder- it's not like any of us were thinking about it, really," Ginny pointed out. "Besides, Harry was so focused on Malfoy all the time-"

"Sure, blame Harry for it, as usual. Merlin, you two-"

"No one asked you to come with me, Ron," Ginny said coldly, rounding on him.

"Yeah, well no one asked Hermione to get involved this time, did they?" he shot back.

"He nearly killed Draco, Ron!" Hermione yelled, unable to keep quiet any longer. "Did you really expect me to just sit back and take that? Did you think- no, wait, that's the bloody problem with you two. You _never_ think before you do anything. It's bad enough trying to get Harry to listen to me, but you-" She stopped, took a deep breath. "Harry's been as bad as you are, this year, and it's what led to all that in the first place. It's why he took so long to get the memory. He wasn't focusing the way he needed to-"

"Because he was grieving!" Ron shot back. "Or have you forgotten what he went through last year-"

"I know!" Hermione shouted back. "I was there too, remember?"

There was dead silence for a moment as Ron looked away again, ashamed, and Hermione gathered herself. Ginny hung between them, uncertain which way to turn.

"I know how hurt he was," Hermione said softly. "He's not the only person on the planet to experience grief at his age. You don't know everything there is to know about me, either, Ron Weasley."

"Blimey, Hermione…" Ron's voice trailed off as he looked up at her. "I didn't-"

"Who?" Ginny asked quietly.

"My cousin," Hermione replied. "And my friend. She died the year I came to Hogwarts, leukemia. And I wasn't there for her, because I was here."

Ron flushed again and he worked his mouth, unsure of what to say.

"Hermione…"

Ginny looked at him to shut him up and reached out, took Hermione's hand. "I'm sorry," she said.

"Thanks," Hermione replied. "Anyway, it's not the same as Harry's loss. I know that. But I still felt it, just the same. Still do. And I know it's hard, when you don't understand something, or wish it had been different, and to feel helpless like that…but he can't let it control him, can't give into the darker side of it. What we have to face is too important."

"It's not fair," Ron mumbled uselessly.

"Of course it isn't," Hermione replied. "But that's how things are. A lot of things will never be fair, no matter how hard we try to change them. Will they?"

She gave him a pointed stare and he met it bravely, though he didn't have the words to answer her. Didn't know if he would've even if he knew what she wanted to hear.

"So that's why," he finally said after a long moment.

"Why I did what I did these last weeks, yes. He had to face the truth of what he's doing and my coddling him wasn't going to help him do that."

"No," said a voice from the shadows of the staircase, "but it would have been nice, just the same."

Ginny gasped and swung about, then jumped down a few stairs to greet the speaker by throwing her arms around his neck.

"Harry!" she exclaimed. "You're back! Did you get it?"

"Already gave it to Dumbledore," he answered, then gently detached her arms from his neck, though he accepted her kiss upon his cheek. He looked past her, past Ron, to where Hermione stood, silhouetted by the light in her doorway. His eyes were bright, his face serious.

Hermione drew her mouth to one side and shifted from one foot to the other as the seconds ticked by.

"Merlin's balls, will one of you say something?" Ron finally broke in and Ginny smacked his arm hard.

"I've got it covered, mate," Harry said, glancing over. He cast his eyes back up to Hermione, gave her a shy, uncertain smile. "But he's right, I don't have all night."

At that, seeing the urgency take over his body, Hermione shrugged and stepped back, gesturing into her room.

The other two looked back at Harry and he smiled at them as well. "You should both come inside. I have something important to tell you all."

Ginny and Ron shuffled in before him and Harry paused by Hermione where she stood at her door, unmoving.

"Thank you," he whispered, then wrapped his arms around her in a gentle hug. Hermione just stood there a second, wanting to respond and desperately wishing she didn't, but finally she gave in and brought her arms up around him, too. She didn't say a word, just as she hadn't that awful day weeks ago, but Harry could feel her fingers digging into his shirt, felt her head rest against his shoulder softly, and it was enough to know that she'd do what she had to do.

"You're my best mate," he whispered into her hair and felt her arms tighten around him briefly.

"Oh, Harry," she murmured. Then they let go and it was back to business. Harry preceded her inside and started to talk as she shut the door again and came around to take a seat.

"Dumbledore wants me to go somewhere with him. He says we can start the real task, now that we've seen the memory."

"But what was in it?" Hermione asked and he waved a hand.

"I can't tell you right now."

"But you will?"

He gave her an affectionate, exasperated look. "Yes, I will."

"Now that you're talking to him again," Ron said sullenly from a corner. Harry shot him a look.

"Enough. That's not why I came- look, the thing is-"

"Harry, you're jumping about some. Just calm down and get to it," Ginny said gently.

"Right, sorry," Harry replied. He went quiet, blew out some air, ran a hand over his hair. He started over.

"The bottom line is that I'm going somewhere with Dumbledore, tonight. I'll be with him the entire time, so I'll be perfectly safe. But-"

"Harry, you can't-"

"I have to, Hermione. Now that I'm finally doing what I was meant to. That's what you've helped me work so hard for, right?"

She stared at him hard and he looked away, to Ginny and Ron.

"So, I wanted to tell you where I'll be. I don't know how long we'll be gone, but I can't leave without knowing you'll all be safe. I still have some Felix left, and I want you all to have some, if anything happens. Anything at all."

"What do you think is going to happen?" Ginny asked.

"He thinks Death Eaters will try and attack the school. That's what it is, isn't it?" Hermione responded.

"What? No way," Ron huffed and Hermione turned to him.

"It's the perfect opportunity for something to happen, Dumbledore leaving like this. Sure, the school has plenty of enchantments, but there are-"

"Already Death Eaters on the inside, right?" Harry interrupted and Hermione whirled to look at him. He raised a brow and she sank back into her chair.

"Draco-"

"Malfoy is up to something, has been all year. And I shouldn't have fixated on it the way I did, you're right about that. But whether you know something or not, or if it's voluntary service or not…they'll know. They always know. So, I want you all to promise me that you'll gather as much help as possible. Use the coins from the DA, use the Felix. When something happens I want you to be prepared and be safe."

"If something happens," Ginny said, trying to inject some optimism into the moment. Harry leveled his gaze at her and she saw many things there: love, strength, sadness, anger. But no optimism.

"When," he repeated. "Someone will need to watch Malfoy, see what he's up to."

"I will," Hermione and Ron said at the same time.

"No," Harry said, turning to Hermione. "Ron can. Not you. I don't care if there's some sort of protection spell on you or not. No one will be safe when they come. And you're not cut out for running in your condition."

Hermione couldn't argue with him, for once in her life, so she settled for glaring.

"Look, that's all I have time for. I should've been at the astronomy tower already. Right, take care of yourselves. Trust me this time, please."

"Harry-" Ginny caught up to him halfway out the door and planted a mad, wild kiss on his lips. He caught her up in his arms and kissed her back soundly, then set her away.

"See you soon, I hope," he murmured. Then he was gone. Ginny watched down the stairs and Ron stood up.

"Well, guess that's that. Do you want some Felix now, Hermione? You can take an extra drop, since nothing's started yet."

"I-" Hermione looked up at him, suddenly terrified, the uneasy feeling from earlier multiplied by ten.

"Yes," she whispered. "I think I'd better. Since you probably won't be coming back here."

"So you're not going to argue with us? You'll actually stay here?" Ron questioned as he recapped the tiny bottle. "What have you done with Hermione Granger?"

Hermione gave a strange little laugh. "It's the least I can do for Harry, trust him now. Besides, he's right. I'm perfect with a wand, but I can't run for shit at the moment. And it's not like I can tell these theoretical Death Eaters, 'Oh, sorry, would you mind standing still so I can take aim more easily?'"

"And it's not like you can ask for a handicap if they start chasing you," Ginny added, turning and walking back inside. "So, you'll be alright here, then? I think I'd better go with Ron, watch Malfoy, make sure no unfortunate accidents occur."

"That's the last thing we need," Hermione agreed and Ron rolled his eyes.

"Whatever. Come on, Gin. Let's get going. We can alert the DA on the way."

Hermione gave Ginny a hug first, then Ron, too, who seemed glad for it, as touchy as their relationship had been recently. They were all a bit on edge, a bit jumpy. Harry's certainty had infected them, amplified their natural nerves to a dissonant high.

With them gone, Hermione's room felt empty and queer. She shivered and realized the warm breeze from before was gone and that evening's early chill had set in. She walked over to her window and glanced out, unsurprised to see the sudden gathering of clouds in a previously blue and sunny sky. Her hands crept from her arms to her belly and she rubbed her stomach restlessly.

Harry. Draco. Dumbledore.

This wasn't going to end well, just as she'd known months ago. Her terror tried to cloud her mind, tried to force her to her knees, but one thing kept her sane. The tiny heartbeat that she felt, strong and clear, to the very marrow of her bones.

It wouldn't end well, but they would survive. And they would do what had to be done.

* * *

**AN: Bad things are coming. Really, really bad things. But happy ending after that. **


	33. No Avoiding It

**Don't own, don't make profit, it's all J.K.'s.**

**AN: It gets worse.**

* * *

There was a darkness over Hogwarts. All the lights in the school seemed to be out, along the hallways and narrow corridors, especially, and in the dark Ginny and Ron couldn't see a damned thing. They could only hear as who they assumed must be Draco exited the Room of Requirement and headed away under a black cloud.

A black cloud…

"Ron, of course!" Ginny whispered excitedly beneath the invisibility cloak. Ron glanced down at her.

"What?"

"That's it, he's used some of those smoke bombs-"

"Nothing we can do about them, is there," Ron grumbled as they felt their way forward, slowly following the sounds of Draco and whatever entourage must be with him.

"Where are you leading us?" Ginny hissed and Ron stopped.

"After him!"

"No, Ron, we have to alert the DA again. We have to distribute the Felix. There's other things we have to do first-"

"Bloody hell," Ron swore, but he relented and they turned back towards their dorm, towards light and familiarity one last time.

* * *

Up in her lonely room, away from everything, Hermione thought she might go crazy. She couldn't hear anything up here, couldn't see anything from her window-

"My coin!" she suddenly gasped and dashed as quickly as she could over to her trunk, where she dug the coin from its depths. Of course, why hadn't she thought to use it to keep track of things tonight? And what did it say, now…

"Oh, hell," she whispered and sat back hard on her rear. It listed the time, but that was in five minutes, there was no way she'd make it there in that short a span. And the place…the hall leading away from the Room of Requirement. But surely, that wasn't the best they could do. Surely they could be more specific about where the action was. Damn it, how she longed for pagers at a time like this! Awkwardly getting up from the floor, she hurried back over to the window and gazed out it again. From here she could just see the very edge of the Astronomy tower. But with the sky so dark, not even a moon out…

And if there wasn't a moon out, what was that strange glow coming from above the tower?

A sudden noise reached her ears and Hermione leaned her head out of the narrow window in time to see the windows along one side of a castle wall explode outward. She pulled back inside quickly, her heart racing, her breath coming too fast. Shaking, she leaned against the wall. And now she could hear more noises. Was that a scream?

Oh, no. That was bad. That was very, very bad. If she could hear things all the way up in her room…

"Draco," she breathed and one hand crept to her belly again, then over her heart. So, Harry's instincts were right, and it had been tonight he chose to act. But Dumbledore had known that would happen. They'd had a plan in place for months, for a confrontation just like this one. She knew that, now. So why was she still so terrified?

He'd asked her to trust him, and she had. But now, Harry wanted her to trust him. Whom did she listen to? Heart pounding, she slid down against the wall to sit, legs stretched before her, face pinched and pale.

She waited, and two more screams sounded.

Another explosion, and then the coin clutched tightly in her hand burned hot. Hermione uncurled her fist and looked down at it curiously.

Astronomy tower, it now read.

She got up again.

* * *

Draco stared down his wand at the old man just feet away from him, knowing he was crying, hating himself for it, but knowing he couldn't help it. This was his goodbye to the old devil, this act of malice, pretending like he actually wanted him dead? He gripped his wand tighter.

"You don't understand, he'll kill me! My entire family!"

"Draco, it doesn't have to be this way. I can offer you protection. The Order can go to your mother tonight, take her in-"

"Please," Draco begged, breaking finally. "I don't want to do this. I can't-"

"Draco…" Dumbledore said, his voice warning him to stick to the plan. Don't give in now, his wise, crazy old eyes said. You've seen things through this far. You'll make it through one more terrible night.

"No, I won't," he breathed.

Dumbledore looked very much as though he wanted to respond, but then it truly was too late, and Bellatrix was beside him, coaxing him, mocking him all at once.

"Do it," she breathed in his ear. "Do it! You have him, make him beg for mercy!"

He didn't say a word, just continued to stare, grief stricken at the man before him as he felt his insane aunt put her hands on his shoulders, actually rub them, as if to give him a fucking pep talk. As if she cared. She'd just as soon see himself dead, too.

His aim wavered.

Draco knew Dumbledore was talking to Bellatrix, attempting to converse with her, but their words flowed right through him like smoke. He couldn't hear anything except a great rushing in his ears, the sound of adrenaline pumping in his system, keeping him standing just then, he was certain. Otherwise he was in great danger of collapsing from sheer terror. He'd never done anything so foolish in his entire life-

Wait, scratch that. He'd taken the Dark Mark in the first place, hadn't he. Tightening his grip on his wand, he swallowed hard and both wished very hard that the night would draw to a close soon and at the same time hoping it never would. Because then, at least, Dumbledore would be alive, even if it was a miserable half existence at the end of someone else's wand. Fuck his cursed hand and all. They needed him here, regardless of whatever bloody terminal illness he thought he had-

Snape was suddenly at his side, putting a hand on his arm, meeting his eyes as he flicked them up quickly to the other man.

"Draco."

"No helping him, Severus! This is his task!" Bellatrix screeched and Draco stared hard at Dumbledore as the two powers on either side of him engaged in their verbal battle.

I can't do this, he screamed at the other man, knowing he understood, knowing he could see it in his mind clearly. The old codger saw everything.

He didn't respond, but finally tore his eyes away from Draco to look at Snape and say one word. One plea.

"_Severus_."

Draco saw the movement out of the corner of his eye and turned his head just in time to see his professor's mouth shape the words, see the green light shoot from the end of his wand. But even though he snapped his eyes back to Dumbledore, saw him falling, he was frozen and could say nothing. Could do nothing.

So, it was over. Just like that. He was crying openly now, he knew, but he couldn't stop, and though Bellatrix was now cursing Snape for delivering the killing blow, she was laughing ecstatically. He felt Snape's arms about his shoulders, spurring him forward, down the stairs of the tower, back into the hallway, where they were suddenly engaged in battle again. But there was no rest for himself or Snape, no. The older wizard simply continued to hurry him away from the scene of confusion and smoke and screams.

Hermione, beat his heart and he prayed to whatever gods were out there that she was safe. She'd known of the final plan, had known that he would let Death Eaters in the school, but she hadn't known that Snape had to kill Dumbledore. Or maybe she had, she was smarter than any of them thought, they were always underestimating her, no matter how brilliant they admitted she was…either way, it was going to be a shock to them all, and to her especially. And after she'd been his these last two months. It had been so lovely, too, when he wasn't contemplating his dismal future as 'Death Eater until further notice'. Yes, she would suffer from the shock.

He should know, since he was suffering from it right now.

He felt Snape pull him around to a hard halt and smack his shoulder, his cheeks, give him a shake.

"Wake up, boy!" he hissed and Draco blinked stupidly at him. "We have to leave, now," Severus tried again and still only got that blank, tear-stained stare for reply.

Behind them, the sounds of battle grew closer as the other Death Eaters present started to catch up.

"Draco!" Snape shouted finally and Draco blinked again, drew his brows together.

"Go?" he said. "We have to…we have to go," he repeated. "Professor, the headmaster-"

"Is dead," Snape said curtly. "Now hurry!"

Draco realized his feet were moving of their own accord.

"I can't believe-"

"Dumbledore is dead!" Bellatrix sang as she danced past them, shooting curses behind her as she went. "Dead, dead, dead!"

"-he's dead," Draco whispered.

"Believe it!" Snape shouted again. "Now hurry, boy! They are coming for us!"

And then they were outside, scattering across the courtyard and down the hillside.

Right, coming for them, because he was now officially a bad guy until further notice. Until Potter got it together and killed Voldemort. And Hermione was no longer his, not really. Not with a separation like this…he paused, suddenly scared out of his wits.

"Draco-" Snape began to roar again and he pulled back.

"Hermione," Draco said, looking up at his mentor, his only protector now.

"Is safe here-"

"No, I heard her," Draco said, panic starting to bubble in his chest. "Just now, here. I heard her."

"We have to go."

"Hermione-"

And then it came again, the sound of her voice, echoing in the walls of the courtyard above them. She was shouting spells, disarming grown Death Eaters as best she could. Someone went down and he turned back, called her name, though he knew he should just listen to Snape and keep running.

She answered back, closer than he'd thought, and he searched for her in the light from the fires Bellatrix had been setting.

"Draco?"

"Hermione!" he gasped and ran to her side like some simpering romance novel wizard. "What are you doing-"

"Draco!" came the high-pitched, crazed voice of his aunt. "Severus, what have you done with our boy?"

Draco ignored her, went on. "Hermione, it's not safe here. You need to leave. _I_ have to leave-"

"Draco-ooo!" came the cry again. He winced, but Hermione merely wiped her cheek with the back of her hand and tottered against him some before straightening up.

"Go. I understand," she said, and he rather thought she looked like a goddess just then, hair wild, stomach round and glorious, eyes flashing to meet the challenge, despite her internal terror.

"Draco," she insisted when he didn't move, "I'll be fine. I have your protection, remember."

He gave her a look that said he'd worry anyway, and that he loved her and was sorry, and then he was backing away and running again.

Hermione pressed a hand to her chest where her heart hurt terribly now and reminded herself that she was in the thick of battle. There was no time to waste. She turned back to the fray.

* * *

Draco reached his aunt in time to keep her from getting involved with the battle behind them again.

"Here I am," he called. "Just caught up- let's get out of here, please-"

"You're no fun," she pouted at him before drawing him to her side with an arm about his shoulders. She stopped mid-movement and her eyes narrowed. "Or maybe you are fun," she whispered, her voice colder than he'd ever heard it. "Just not the kind I approve of."

He stared at her hard even as he attempted to move them forward.

"Aunt-"

"Crucio! _Crucio_!"

The curse was out of her mouth before he saw it coming and he whirled about quickly to see what had caught her eye, what good Order member she was intent on having it out with. He was sick of this, of the pain, the anguish, he just wanted this night to end-

And he saw Hermione on the paving stones of the courtyard, motionless.

His heart contracted in his chest, his breath stopped altogether, and he turned back to his aunt, a woman he'd lived in terror of for so many years, intent on doing…something. Anything.

She was already dancing away from him, laughing gleefully once more, singing her evil song about Dumbledore. Already moving on.

"Draco!" Snape's voice reached his ears and he stood there, still as death, until the older man reached him. "Draco, come, we must go! Potter will only give me so long a respite-"

"Hermione is-" was as far as Draco got before his throat closed off again.

Snape looked behind him to where a group of figures was already gathering around a lump to one side of the courtyard. He paled and took Draco by the shoulder nonetheless.

"We must go," he repeated. "It is crucial-"

"Fuck crucial!" Draco cried. "I don't care! I can't do this, I can't leave her-"

"You can and you will!" Snape roared at him. "You cannot do anything for her! Leave her to those who can and do your part as you knew you would have to, no matter what!" He drew a deep breath. "It is what she would want," he finished, his voice softer, but no less dangerous.

Draco stared up at him angrily, face contorted, crying for what felt like the tenth time that night. Then he helplessly followed the other man away from the scene, casting one last, dismal glance over his shoulder.

He was certain she would never be his again.


	34. Crash

**I still don't own this. Sigh. No money, either. Double sigh.**

**AN: I recommend listening to Greg Laswell's cover of "This Woman's Work" while reading this chapter. Seriously.**

* * *

"Harry!" Ginny ran to meet him as he walked slowly into the courtyard, his feet dragging and shoulders hunched.

He looked up to see that she was crying, her brow furrowed and immediately wrapped his arms around her and cried with her.

"Ginny, he's gone- Dumbledore-"

She pulled back and stared at him, face even paler in the flickering lights.

"What?" she whispered. "No. Oh, no. Not him, too. Oh, Harry-"

Harry was about to pull her to him again, to give over to their now shared misery when her words stopped him.

"Too?" he echoed. "What do you mean? Ginny, who else-"

"Bill was caught by Fenrir," she moaned. "He's alive, but they've already taken him to the infirmary. But-" She stopped, lips trembling.

"Who?" Harry insisted and finally looked past her, to where Ron knelt on the stones, struggling with an Order member- and was that Neville next to him, kneeling over someone? His heart leapt to his throat.

"She's alive!" the call from Neville suddenly went up and Ginny sagged in his arms, relieved. Harry held her tightly, not even realizing what he was doing.

"Hermione?" he questioned, and looked down at her face. She was desperately unhappy, despite her relief, and he had his answer.

He grabbed Ginny's hand and found that he had the strength to run, after all.

* * *

The first thing Hermione saw when she opened her eyes was Harry's face and she got out just a few words before the pain rose to the surface and overwhelmed her. Then there was only screaming, and bleeding, and wishing she were dead. She may have called for her mother at one point, she wasn't sure, but only Madame Pomfrey and Molly Weasley were at her side and neither of them looked very happy or comforting, despite their best efforts. That was when she could see. When she couldn't see, the only thing in her head was Draco's face as he ran from her during those last awful moments of the battle that had, until then, been going rather well, she thought…

And then she felt nothing, not even the little heartbeat that had sustained her through those final months of school, and darkness came.

* * *

Draco paced the dark, tiny room Snape had thrust him into and waited. Waited for whatever was going on out there to be over, for someone to summon him, for his life to end…all he could think of was Hermione, lying cold and possibly dead in the courtyard, and all he could see in this dark cell was that old man's face as he accepted his death.

He thought he might go insane if he had to wait much longer. Or maybe he already was insane. Yes, that made more sense.

The door opened, light spilled in.

"Draco-" came Snape's voice and Draco turned to him and froze, blinking owlishly in the sudden light.

"Where is she?" he asked hoarsely.

"Hermione?" Snape said, concerned.

"My aunt," Draco replied. Snape stiffened.

"That is not your concern right now-"

"It will be. Very soon. It's all part of the ruse, isn't it? _Isn't it_?"

Snape stepped into the room, shut the door. He placed a hand on Draco's shoulder and Draco didn't shake it off. He wanted some comforting about now, however small it was.

"Draco, you're to go back."

"Back…to Hogwarts? Doesn't he want to see me?"

"The Dark Lord has agreed with me that it is best you go to the mother of your child, first."

"The mother of my-" Draco let out a bark of laughter, though there was nothing humorous in the sound. "You're joking. He's letting me go back?"

"The negotiation was not without its price," Snape said softly, wincing some and Draco was immediately alert again.

"What? What did he do to you?"

"Don't mind me, boy. You must go back. Apparate to Hogsmeade, use the cupboard, whichever is fastest."

"You're not coming with me?"

"How can I? Not everyone in the school knows of my loyalties. I would be killed on sight. Now, go! And Draco-" He stopped the boy again just as he'd opened the door and Draco turned back. Severus gave him a small, grim smile. "Then you must return."

Draco stared at him for some seconds more. There wouldn't be much to come back to, but at least then he could have vengeance. Although the thought of it terrified him. Demand retribution of his aunt, his mother's sister…would she ever forgive him? But then, the bigger question was would he ever forgive himself, for what Bellatrix had done to Hermione, and he already knew the answer to that.

At least vengenace would ease the guilt some.

"Of course," he said, nodding at Snape before stepping out the door and making his way from his boyhood home into the even darker night.

* * *

There was a commotion over at the doors of the infirmary and Harry rushed over from his post next to Ginny to investigate. Remus greeted him, holding Draco roughly by his shirt collar in one hand, wand gripped in the other.

"Let go!" Draco hissed and Harry tried to find it in himself not to murder him.

"Remus-" he began, but the older man shook his head.

"This isn't your concern right now, Harry." He started to call over another adult and Harry stepped forward.

"It is." Harry made his mouth work. "He's with Hermione. She's been asking for him constantly. When she's awake," he added, in a cruel dig to the other boy. Draco flinched and Lupin loosened his grip somewhat.

"Harry…"

"You're the one who told me to trust Dumbledore's judgment all year," Harry shot back.

"Where is she?" Draco finally broke in and Harry turned to him.

"Over there," he said, jerking his head. He eyed Draco as if appraising him, seeing if he was fit to take the news and Draco knew immediately that whatever he'd imagined, it was worse and very, very bad. But at least she wasn't dead, thank Merlin. At least-

Harry delivered his news in the gentlest voice he could manage which was honestly still pretty harsh, considering all they'd been through tonight. But his words would have stopped Draco's heart beating no matter how they sounded, he was sure.

"She lost the baby."

Draco let out one grief stricken cry and nearly collapsed against his captor, though in the cry there was relief and awful joy that Hermione lived, despite it all. Then he was straightening up, standing on his own, determined to be brave. Lupin let him go and he and Harry watched Draco move away from them, towards Madame Pomfrey, where she stood guard at the curtains surrounding Hermione.

The older witch warily watched him approach, but didn't move from her post.

"Let me see her," Draco said, his voice stern and uncompromising.

Poppy knew immediately what he meant. She looked at him like he was insane and felt a swell of pity for the boy. So young, yet he'd taken on an unthinkable task. Still reeling from the death of the headmaster herself, she felt tears rise to her eyes.

"Mister Malfoy, I assure you, that is not…a good idea," she said as gently as possible.

He narrowed his eyes. "I want to see her."

Poppy gave him a solid look. Well, if he were going to lose it in her infirmary he would have done so already, no doubt. He was looking pale and drawn, but there was courage in his face. Or was it grief?

She shook her head. Not that it mattered. They were all grieving. The school was permeated with it.

"Mister Malfoy-"

"Please, Madame Pomfrey," he responded, his voice finally breaking a little.

She closed her eyes and waved behind her. "If you insist. She's over there-"

He was walking past her in a heartbeat, before she'd finished her sentence and into the curtained area they'd used for Hermione's labor. Draco approached the table she'd pointed to slowly, unsure of what he would find. His heart was hammering in his ears and then he stopped and looked down and saw…and silence descended. Madame Pomfrey had clearly cleaned her up and she was lying in a light pink blanket on that cold table, waiting for attention.

She was tiny. She was perfect.

She was lifeless.

Hands trembling as they had just that night when he'd held his wand level at a wizard who let himself be killed, he reached out and carefully picked up her fragile body. He cradled her head in one hand and her body along his arms and looked down into her face, as though hoping to see something that had never been there in the first place. His chin. His brow. His eyes.

But there was nothing of his in that tiny thing, except the love he held for her, even when it was clear she would never be able to love him back.

Not when he'd failed her so utterly.

All the promises he'd made to her and to her mother; to Dumbledore and Snape; to his parents and hers…it was all gone with the flick of one insane witch's wand. An unbearable grief and guilt settled on his chest, pressing it in, caving him until he was hunched over her fragile corpse, weeping silently to himself. Crying tears he would never shed again. He didn't have that luxury. This was his one chance to mourn this little thing, this life he hadn't helped to create, but that he'd loved just the same. Merlin, how could he not love her, when he loved her mother the way he did?

It was and always would be unbearable. Draco wasn't sure his heart would ever beat the same again.

* * *

Ron watched him from the other side, hands clenched into fists. Draco Malfoy was crying over _his_ child. _His! _And after all the promises and the vows to keep Hermione safe and keep this exact thing from happening. It was too much.

But Malfoy was standing there, rocking the…baby, crying quietly. As if he'd lost the most precious thing in the world. Ron thought he should probably feel the exact same way- he did feel that way, really, but he was so angry at Malfoy at that moment that it overrode every other emotion.

"Malfoy," he managed to grind out, restraining himself from walking over and killing the other boy outright. For doing this to him. To her. To Hermione.

Draco stilled at the sound and turned his head to face Ron. His eyes were bright with tears, but his face was lifeless, his shoulders curled forward, defeated. Ron unclenched his fists, caught in the strangeness of the expression. So…Malfoy felt responsible. Well, he should, Ron argued with himself, but even he could see that now was not the time to grind in the boot heel. Not when they'd all lost so much. Not when Hermione was suffering even more.

"Hermione…wants you," he finally said and then repeated himself when Draco just blinked at him and then looked back at the baby in his arms, tears still streaking down his face.

"Why?" Draco asked after another moment. "She shouldn't ever want to see me again," he rasped out and his shoulders shook a little.

Ron swallowed hard. "Maybe not, maybe I agree with you, but she's asking for you, just the same. You've hurt her enough for one night. Go to her. If she's asking for you, you should…go to her," he finished, fists clenching again.

Draco nodded once, then laid a soft kiss on the baby's forehead before putting her back down just as gently. He kept his hand on her and put another over his eyes before taking several deep, shuddering breaths. Then he straightened up, took his hand from his face and gave her one last, long look as he slowly lifted his hand from her body; almost as if he were caressing her- saying goodbye one last time- and finally turned away.

Ron thought it was the most pathetic thing he'd ever seen in his life and felt his own grief suddenly threaten to overwhelm his anger. Proud, arrogant, insufferable Malfoy- the boy who had made their years at Hogwarts hell, who had tormented them all on more than one occasion, who had taken the Dark Mark long before he'd agreed to switch sides- had lost a child tonight, too.

"Go," he choked out, pointing and Draco didn't give him another glance as he passed by the other boy. Ron turned from him and hesitated at the edge of the partition. Then he walked in. She was his, too. Draco may have felt entirely responsible, but Ron knew that if he had made different choices earlier in the year then maybe none of this would have happened.

Her death was in a small way his fault, too. He didn't wonder at Malfoy's tears, for in another moment he was crying as well.

* * *

Madame Pomfrey stopped Draco at the second set of curtains with a hand on his shoulder. "She's quite weak, Mister Malfoy. I wouldn't advise staying long."

Draco nodded, face still wet, though he was no longer crying, and walked in. Hermione looked just as pale and lifeless as her daughter and for a brief second Draco's heart stopped beating again. But then her eyes fluttered open and she looked over at him and mouthed a word.

He practically collapsed at her side, his hands grasping the one she offered, shoulders bowed low again. He had to lean close to hear her, for she was speaking.

"You- you can't blame yourself, Draco. You can't blame yourself."

His grip on her hand tightened, but he didn't say a word. He knew it was important to her, to say these things. She would blame him later, when she had more energy. When she wasn't in the throes of grief herself. Right now she was feeling magnanimous and forgiving and so she had to say such things while she had the chance. Because in a few days…a few hours, even, she would start to hate him. He knew that much. He was certain of it. She wasn't his anymore, after all. That part was over.

"Draco, please, talk to me…"

"About what?" he managed.

Her eyes fluttered closed. "Tell me about her. What did you think of her? Madame Pomfrey tried to put her in my arms after- after…" she stopped and took a breath, trying to gather her energy. It was a chore just to open her mouth. "I couldn't hold her. I'm so…weak…" At that she grit her teeth and began to cry and Draco spent a few moments brushing away her tears and shushing her softly.

"You'll get to hold her, Hermione," he told her. "She's…she's perfect. Beautiful. The most beautiful thing I've ever seen, after her mother," he added with a crooked smile and Hermione tried to crack a smile too.

They were pathetic together.

"She's tiny," he murmured. "Just a wee little thing. I love her," he admitted. "As much as I love her mother. Hermione, I'm so sorry-" he choked and bowed his head. Hermione shook her head weakly and tried to lift her other hand to him, getting as far as his forearm before it fell. He lowered his head and cried against it, kissing her knuckles softly as he tried to gather himself. She turned her hand over and cupped her palm against his cheek.

"Tell me more," she pleaded, tears in her own eyes still.

Draco nodded and swallowed thickly. "Brown hair- so light it barely covers her head. Your hair," he added. "Grey eyes." He didn't add that they both knew all babies had grey eyes to start with- it wouldn't make a difference to them, now. In this eternity of teenaged love and grief, it was an image they would carry until they both joined her. "Ten fingers- tiny fingers. Your nose. Your chin. She's perfect, Hermione."

It was gratifying, in some small way, that she never once asked for Ginny, or Ron, or even Harry. That he was all she wanted just then. But he also knew it would have to end soon. So, it was with great reluctance that he finally straightened up and placed a chaste kiss- the sort he should have been giving her all along- upon her cheek; then stood, gently extracting his arms from her.

She didn't ask where he was going. Just gave him another weak smile and clutched at his hand and asked him to visit her again tomorrow, when she was feeling better.

"You'll come back, won't you?" she asked him, her eyes wide and worried.

"If you want me," he murmured, and the guilt was overwhelming.

"Of course I- we're friends now, aren't we? More-" and she stumbled over the words in her anxiety, questioning something they'd established months ago, "more than friends?"

His grey eyes met hers for a long moment and he could feel the years of their enmity stretching between them, long and limitless, bridged only by this one insane year and the little thing that was now lying dead across the way. He tried to smile and found he couldn't. Could barely breathe, in fact.

"If you want," he repeated, helpless to know what the right thing to say or do just then was. Helpless to give her what she wanted, when his own guilt was pressing on him so heavily.

"If I-" she broke off and searched his face. "How could I not want?" she asked finally, brokenly. "Draco, how could I not-"

Her hand clutched more tightly around his and he felt the air go out of him entirely. He grasped her hand as well and looked down at them, willing himself not to cry again. They were children! They were-

Parents. Friends. Companions. Soldiers.

And he, he was the worst of the lot. But she wanted him. As much as he was sure she would be disabused of the notion before the sun rose, he leaned forward and kissed her lips as chastely as he'd kissed her cheek. She smiled at him then, through her grief and confusion and it was a beautiful sight for him.

"You'll come back?"

"Yes," he told her. Then he left. He brushed past Ginny on the way out, who was in the infirmary as well, since they'd all needed a good look over. Not to mention Fenrir's damage to her brother…he chanced one glance towards the huddle of Weasleys and shuddered.

That was what he was going back to tonight; back to Fenrir and the Carrows and Snape and Voldemort. And Bellatrix. He felt his anger overwhelm his grief with the thought of her and Ginny didn't bother to catch his arm as he passed her. The look on his face told her all she needed to know. Potter tried to stop him, though.

"What?" he bit out and Harry stared at him hard.

"I understand what's been going on, what you're doing," he said shortly.

Draco knew at once what he meant: the double agent business, the spying, the protecting Hermione- he wondered if the Unbreakable Vow had been broken itself with the death of the his daughter- no, Ron's daughter- and Dumbledore's passing.

"And?" Draco replied stiffly.

"And I want you to know that-"

"Now is not the time for apologies, or making up, or whatever the fuck it is you think you're doing, Potter. I have to go and meet those murdering shitheads so that my cover's not broken. Now get-"

"Meet them?" Harry asked, brows drawing together.

"Yes, meet them! They still think I'm one of them, despite Granger. They have done all year! Now I have to go meet them and fulfill my end of the bargain."

"Dumbledore's already-"

"Not that," Draco said with a shake of his head. "The other thing. I have to demand retribution!"

"Retribution-" Harry's voice broke off of its own accord and Draco gave him a sharp, pinched stare.

"You mean for the baby," Harry said slowly.

"Glad you understand. Now get the fuck out of my way," he hissed and pushed past Harry into the outer corridor, closing the door behind him. He rested against it for a long second, eyes closed, savoring the feel of his sorrow one last time. There would be no place for it where he was going. Only anger and vengeance.

Merlin, but he was only sixteen. He wondered how he would survive.

Draco opened his eyes, blinking back the last of his tears and looked down the hallway to where someone was standing, looking at him. For a wild moment, he thought he was seeing Hermione, until he realized the girl was much shorter; only a child. Her face was heart shaped with a round chin and rosy cheeks. Her skin was creamy and pale and her hair was as brown and bushy as Hermione's, but her eyes…

Her eyes were a pale grey and they took him in with a wisdom he feared he would never possess. He returned her stare, drinking her in, his eyes wide and searching while she favored him with a thoughtful gaze.

Then, with a small, shy smile, she turned and walked away, disappearing around a corner.

Draco stifled a sob against his arm, squeezing his eyes shut as he learned to breathe again. Then he straightened himself, took a shaky breath, and followed the vision out of sight as he went to meet his fate.

* * *

**AN: My apologies to any who did not see this coming. I've had this chapter written for months. **


	35. Darkness, Then Light

**Don't own it! Don't make money off it! It's all J.K.'s!**

**AN: Sooo…either I shocked you all into silence with that last chapter, or you didn't really think it was that good and so decided to hold off on sending me bad reviews that would make me feel awful.**

**Or you all hate me now. That's a possibility too.**

**Moving on.**

* * *

It was the dead of night, those early morning hours when dawn hasn't yet begun its race across the Eastern sky and nothing moves or breathes for fear of disturbing the peace of the nocturnal life. Hermione, however, was wide awake and staring at the ceiling above her. She was still as can be, just concentrating on breathing and not really seeing what was before her eyes. No, she was stuck in her head, in a world where she didn't still feel the pain of her labor, or the terror of that curse flooding her limbs. Or the awful knowledge that her baby, the one she'd done everything to protect and make safe, and had finally learned to love and embrace…was dead.

Her baby was dead.

And it changed nothing, and everything. She would still have to stand by Harry's side and help him defeat Voldemort, she would still have to put her future on hold for the sake of having a future at all. She would still have to leave Draco and the fantasy they'd created this last year, even if some of those feelings were real. Even if…she shook her head some. No, no point in going over that anymore.

Still, her little girl…her baby…had she even named her? Hermione couldn't honestly remember, with her mind clouded this way, from the pain and excitement. She moved restlessly in her bed finally, disturbing the dark silence and there was a movement next to her, a hand reaching out for hers, a figure coming to stand next to her.

"Hermione?" Ginny whispered and Hermione turned her head.

"Ginny," she mumbled. "Did I- did I name her? I can't remember. Did I even think that far ahead? Or was I…was I too busy with everything else? I can't-"

"Shh," Ginny calmed her, pushed her hair from her face. She glanced back over her shoulder, then looked down at Hermione again. "I'm not even supposed to be here," she admitted. "But with how everyone is feeling right now…they didn't notice I never left. Mum is right over there. Want me to get her?"

"No," Hermione said. "No. I just want-"

"Patricia," Ginny suggested suddenly, settling into a chair by the bed. "Or Eloise. I always liked that name."

"What are you-"

"You're exhausted, Hermione. And still feverish, I think. Come on, talk to me. Drink some water and talk to me. Make a little sense."

"The baby-"

"Let's name her now."

Hermione felt her eyes fill with more tears and she squeezed Ginny's hand tightly. Then she took a deep breath and drank some of the water Ginny held to her lips. She settled back again, closed her eyes, and tried to think, to focus herself and to come back to reality, despite the pain and the grief that waited for her there.

"Jemima," she finally whispered.

"Olivia," Ginny countered readily.

"I like that one," Hermione said softly and Ginny squeezed her hand in reply, then murmured another name to the shadows.

And so the dead of night passed, as the two girls held wake for a tiny, loved, but nameless soul.

* * *

Back at the Manor, Draco had been forced to wait again in that dark little room- one he recognized now as a closet he'd once hid in when he was much younger. It was just off the main hall, far from the dining room, but close to one of the parlors, and he was certain he could hear voices- female voices- beyond that wall.

One was his mother, and he was gripped by an intense desire to run to her, to wrap his arms around her and let her assuage some of his grief. But the other voice…it was Bellatrix, and he knew that soon enough his mother might not want to hold him at all, because not only was he bound still by that ridiculous vow he'd taken, but he was also bound by honor to make her pay. And if he could afford himself nothing else in this dismal existence, he could at least be honorable about the girl he was still convinced he loved.

And even if that changed, Hermione still deserved justice for what had been done, and Bellatrix had to die.

An eye for a bloody eye, and all that rot. He blinked back more tears and wiped his cheeks hurriedly as the door cracked open and Snape appeared once more.

"Well?" he asked and Severus gave him a good once over.

"She'll kill you, boy," he said and Draco swallowed hard.

"I have to do this. Why else would I have to come back?"

"He might kill you first."

"Is there a point to this?" Draco asked, jutting his chin forward and staring at the other man. Severus shook his head.

"There never is," he murmured, then went on. "He's rather angry with both of us right now, although he'll get over it because Dumbledore is at least-" Here he stopped, as if choking on the words, and Draco was sure he'd seen the first real emotion from the older wizard all night. But Snape recovered quickly and went on before he could say a word. "Your mother has been forced to be present."

"I was afraid of that," Draco breathed.

"And you may ask for a second, if you feel unable to face her."

"As if anyone would stand up for me," Draco muttered angrily and Severus cleared his throat delicately.

"Have I not stood by you already?" he said quietly and Draco looked up at him.

"I- Professor…"

"No matter. Make your decision now, later. He may yet change his mind. Now, are you ready?"

Draco swallowed again, took a deep breath.

"No," he said honestly and smirk flashed at the corner of Snape's lips.

"One never is," he concurred, then opened the door and led Draco out.

* * *

Narcissa started across the room to Draco the minute she saw him, but immediately someone- one of the Carrows, she could never tell the brother and sister apart- was holding her back, keeping her from her own son.

"Let go of-" she began, but stopped short as the final presence entered the room. _Her_ room. Her own damn dining room, and they'd shoved the long table to one side, although they'd certainly used it enough earlier, and the monster himself, that had torn her family apart this way, had set up like he was the bloody king. Like this was his house, and his throne room, and damn it all if she didn't want to claw his eyes out.

Thank Merlin he couldn't read her mind. He'd tried once already to question her about Draco and Hermione, but she'd held fast against him. She always did. She'd had to teach herself years ago how to hold her own, because heaven only knew that Lucius was no help there, but at least the madman had been defeated quickly enough back then. She only hoped to god that the siege this time around was even shorter. She couldn't take living like this any longer.

Jerking her arm from Amycus' grip, she merely sniffed when he in turn leered at her.

"Shove off," she said, distinctly enough for anyone to overhear…not caring anymore who knew how pissed off she was.

"Don't mind her," Bellatrix said, waltzing in beside her. "She's just got her knickers in a bunch over what's happened to her poor baby boy."

"What's happened is he's done what was asked of him," Narcissa shot back.

"No. He. _Hasn't_!" Bellatrix screamed, turning on her suddenly and Narcissa fell back from her insane sister, seeing her fully for the first time.

"My god, Bella," she whispered.

"Bellatrix," came the hiss of the madman himself, cutting her off, turning her head and everyone else's until all eyes were on him. Bellatrix moved forward, falling over herself in a show of slavish devotion and Narcissa wondered how she'd ever tolerated it before.

Because she's your sister, she thought. Because you love her and grew up with her, and played dolls…but she's not that girl anymore. She's gone. The sister I loved is gone and would see me and my son dead if it meant pleasing this monster before us. And I must face that. Must accept it.

There was a small movement beside her and she realized Severus had moved up next to her and had placed a hand at her elbow- just that small, reassuring touch. She took a deep breath and began to hope.

"So, we are all here. To witness both triumph and defeat. Young Malfoy."

Draco may have flinched, it was impossible to tell, it flickered across his face so quickly. He stepped up and bowed low.

"My lord," he said, proud of himself that at least his voice hadn't cracked.

"You succeeded in bringing my loyal Death Eaters into Hogwarts. You cornered and faced down a powerful…wizard." He sneered. "But you did not deliver the killing blow."

There was silence and Draco stayed where he was, on one knee, staring at the floor.

"My lord?" he finally said when it became clear Voldemort was waiting for him to respond.

"You are fortunate that at least one loyal servant was there to finish the job you started with such promise. Alas-"

"He's just a boy!" Narcissa shouted, knowing it was a mistake even as the words left her lips, and felt Severus' grip tighten.

Bellatrix spun about.

"Do not speak to him that way!" she shrieked. "Cru-"

"If my lord will allow me to speak?" Severus cut in, stepping forward, leaving Narcissa's side. Bellatrix kept her wand trained on her sister and Narcissa felt her heart breaking.

There was a tense moment as Snape bowed before Voldemort, then locked eyes with his hated master. Voldemort finally sat back and waved a hand.

"Stand down, Bellatrix. Lucius has long been faithful to me. And his wife's hospitality at welcoming us here tonight is to be…awarded. Besides, her desire to protect her own pureblood line is an admirable trait. Severus. What is it?" He glanced down at Draco and said, almost as an after thought, "You may rise, Draco."

Draco took the opportunity to scramble to both feet and straightened up as best he could. He wondered if his cheeks were still damp, wondered how bad he looked, if the strain showed. He couldn't show any weakness of that sort now, not when his and likely his mother's lives depended on it.

Severus ignored him and addressed Voldemort.

"My lord, there is the small matter…"

"Yes?"

"Bellatrix, it seems, has violated the unspoken vow."

Voldemort's red eyes narrowed to slits and he sucked in a deep breath.

"And whom was she…overexcited…with?"

Snape looked to Draco then and Voldemort turned his head. Draco met his eyes briefly before turning his hatred upon his aunt.

"Hermione Granger, my lord," he ground out.

It grew very quiet and then Voldemort uttered a small, "Indeed?"

He turned his eyes to her and Bellatrix held out her hands. "My lord, my only master, you know she is but a mudblood, a filthy mudblood! The child she bore would have been a half-bred bastard, the result only of his attempts to complete his mission-"

"A child of filth on one side, it's true, but I would have raised her to value the will and pleasures of my lord. She would have been faithful to us, my lord. To you," Draco said, hoping it wasn't too obvious how saying such things while thinking of that beautiful, innocent baby girl made him sick. As if he'd ever have raised her in a home with anything but love in it.

Horrified, he felt tears come to his eyes and dared to hastily wipe them away. There was a quick intake of breath from Voldemort and he looked up again to see the man standing now, looking down at him.

"Draco…you are so moved by this loss you cry for it? That you could not bring another into our fold?"

There was something akin to wonder in his voice and Draco hid his revulsion as best he could. He only nodded and bowed his head.

"Yes, my lord," he said quietly, then lifted his head again. "And I demand the blood price. Retribution."

Another hiss from Voldemort and he was floating above his seat now, clearly torn between his own manic laws and the desire to put an end to this fuss. Slowly, he came back to his seat and turned his head towards his most trusted lieutenant. The look on his face was so far from his usual expression of hatred and cold dominance that Bellatrix actually shrank back from him momentarily, groveling in her desire to appease that new curiosity.

His face shifted, became cold once more.

"Very well," Voldemort declared. "I will allow this duel. But you will surely lose, young Malfoy."

Bellatrix gave a shriek of joy and despair, though she was silenced by one quick look from her master. She shrank back further.

"My lord, if I may-" Severus began and Voldemort sighed, but waved his hand. Snape stepped forward again, to stand at Draco's side. "He is allowed a second. Those are your-"

"Have you not meddled enough for one night, Severus?" Voldemort howled and Snape fell silent, though he stood tall.

From the hall there came a sudden noise, the sound of voices and weary footfalls and Voldemort rose from his seat again. He spoke as if everything was forgotten, as if he hadn't just ordered Draco's death.

"Ah, our new arrivals…but old friends. Finally! You have come back to me!"

And into the ancestral home of the Malfoys tottered over a dozen Death Eaters previously incarcerated at Azkaban. Among them, of course, was Lucius, and Draco's eyes met his father's even before Narcissa realized what had happened, who had arrived. She managed to stay where she was on her own this time, however, though her heart had leapt into her throat. Voldemort made his way down the line of escapees, congratulating some, ignoring others., and always talking.

"Let us welcome you all back…ah, Lucius. You would have preferred to stay, no doubt?"

Lucius cringed, and overall his appearance was so changed that Narcissa thought she and Draco were lucky to recognize him. Azkaban had been unkind, as they'd known it would. And yet she hoped…

"No, my lord. My place is out here, to serve you-"

"Enough of your sniveling. Though perhaps it is good the Dementors did not take your manners from you. Come, all of you, you are about to witness a duel. Young Draco here thirsts for revenge!"

"Revenge?" came the small gasp from Lucius' lips and Voldemort settled his mad, evil smile upon him.

"I am sorry to follow good news with bad, Lucius, but it seems Bellatrix has…accidentally killed your grandchild."

"Oops," Bellatrix murmured, giggling from across the room.

"That was no accident!" Draco spoke up, forcing the attention back to himself, tired of the charade going on, and on. It was time to end this all. "She did it on purpose and with malice and she _must_ pay!"

"My lord," Snape tried again, "perhaps we should-"

"No, no more, Severus," Voldemort said, cutting him off. "Let it begin, then. Let the boy show us what he is made of."

Narcissa saw Bellatrix raise her wand gleefully, saw Draco change his stance, and she knew she was going to faint or scream at any moment. This couldn't be true, couldn't be happening, oh, the immeasurably heartbreak-

"No!" Lucius barked, stepping forward.

"You dare speak, Lucius, unfaithful dog?" Voldemort hissed and Lucius' face paled further, but he did not stand down.

"He is a minor and my only progeny. I will stand for him. The child was my family as well, the right falls to me."

"You…dare…"

"You have only to lose myself instead, my lord," Lucius murmured. "Tell me which is the more desirable death."

Voldemort was quiet for what felt like a long time and Narcissa trembled where she stood. She saw Severus grip Draco's arm as he had hers just a short while ago and felt some small shred of hope. This was insane, it was beyond anything she'd imagined her life coming to, but she knew without a doubt that her husband was maybe, just maybe, strong enough to defeat Bellatrix.

After all, he'd agreed to stand in after just escaping Azkaban and besides, he'd had no idea of Draco's doings this year. He'd taken his son's place on faith alone.

That had to count for something.

After several more heartbeats, Voldemort finally pronounced judgment.

"Very well. Proceed."

* * *

**AN: Oh yeah! Bet none of you saw that coming! *soft spot for Lucius, the crazy bastard***


	36. Feeling Returns

**Don't own any of HP and make no money off this fic. It all belongs to J.K.!**

**AN: Ok, seriously, only a few chapters left. Then again, I've some big questions left to answer, so maybe not. Whew!**

* * *

The duel began before the last word was even out of Voldemort's mouth, Bellatrix was so eager to begin her dance of death with Lucius. Draco had to quickly throw his wand to his father to buy him some time, but when he tried to leave to find his father's real wand, Snape was there, blocking his path.

"Let me go! Father-"

"Your father needs you here. Stay. I will go."

And then Severus was no longer blocking his path because he'd left to fetch Lucius' wand, himself. Draco turned back to the room and sought out his mother's face. Snape's exit fortunately went unnoticed since most of the other Death Eaters, avid fans of death and destruction though they were, were desperate to get out of the way of Bellatrix's path. There was a crush behind him of grown men and some women, clambering out the doors of the dining room as curse after curse ignited the air.

"Crucio!" Bellatrix yelled and the curse caught Macnair instead of Lucius, who'd used the secrets of his own house to duck into a hidden alcove. Draco took the opportunity of Bellatrix stalking about the near empty room, searching for him, to dash over to his mother where she stood in a corner. He took her hand.

"Mother-"

"Shush!" she breathed, but wrapped her fingers about Draco's hands. He nodded and looked back out at the room.

Bellatrix waved her wand madly over her head and Voldemort sat on his so-called throne, hissing his delight. Draco didn't think he'd ever seen the man laugh before, and he didn't ever want to see it again, to be honest- if laughing was what he was even doing. It was honestly hard to tell, with the Dark Lord.

But now Bellatrix was shouting things, trying to draw a response from Lucius, to smoke him from his foxhole, and Draco could feel the tension spark the air as the ugly truth rolled from her lips.

"Do you know what your precious son has been doing this year you've been toiling away in Azkaban, paying for your disloyalty, for your uselessness? Diddling a mudblood whore!"

Bellatrix paused and tilted her head, as if waiting for a response. When none came, she went on.

"He got the little bint pregnant, all for the sake of his master. How do you like that, Lucius? Hmm? Enjoy hearing how ickle Draco has sullied your precious pureblood line? Has single-handedly destroyed the pureblood line of two great houses, for generations upon gen-"

"Silencio!" Lucius crowed, leaping from his hiding spot and directly across Bella's path. Immediately, no words fell from her lips and her face contorted in a rage that quickly dissolved into eerie, silent laughter.

Lucius prowled around her slowly, watching for any move she might make. She continued to laugh until just as he'd circled behind her, then straightened and directed her wand at him. A curse flew from its tip and Lucius managed to step cleanly out of the way. Three more nonverbal spells and a thin sheen of sweat appeared on his brow as he shielded himself from the onslaught.

Bellatrix was clearly struggling against the charm he'd cast, attempting to break it, and she paused after another series of rapid spell fire to refocus. Staggering back from him, she clung to a wall and took deep breaths. Lucius engaged in his own nonverbal spell casting, taking the opportunity to wear away at her defenses further and the dead quiet of the room, punctuated only as curses burst across it, cast its own spell.

Draco felt as if he were in a dream, seeing his father- whom he hadn't seen for months and who was definitely the worse for wear- battling the only aunt he'd ever known. The insane witch who'd drawn him into the fold herself last year, who'd taught him things he'd in turn used against her all this year…it was surreal. And all for the sake of a child that wasn't even his.

No, that wasn't true. This duel was being fought for everyone who'd been hurt by that one tiny death. For Hermione, for her parents, for his mother. For Ron and Ginny and even bloody Harry Potter. And in the end, it was being fought for the sake of all the good things left in this life, and his own father was the one doing the fighting.

Draco was both incredibly moved and terrified, mainly because he knew that once his father had learned the truth, he suspected he wouldn't have a father much longer. And yet…Lucius was fighting on, despite hearing the truth fall from Bellatrix's lips, despite knowing it must be the truth. He gripped his mother's hand harder and Narcissa dared tear her eyes from the scene before her to give him one fearful, wildly hopeful look before she turned back again.

* * *

Lucius had no eyes but for the witch in front of him, throwing curses at him and moving her lips in an ugly pantomime of hatred. He'd dealt her quite the blow with that one, he had, but there was no time to feel smug about it. Lucky for him, too, she'd never have expected so mundane a spell. But it was doing its job nicely: it kept him from being distracted by the filth she was spewing and it frustrated her to the point of distraction. Win-win, that one was. Bellatrix, he pondered, was the sort of witch that liked to taunt her victims. It was part of her dueling strategy. So to take that away from her…he danced out of the way of another wild curse and thanked Merlin he was inches thinner. If he'd been at his old weight some of those near misses he'd already had- well. Wouldn't have been misses.

Ah, she was growing overzealous with her old favorite, the cruciatus. Lucky for him he could practically pluck from her mind where she was aiming, so distracted was she-

Narcissa let out a scream of pain and he blinked, and started to turn…and just then Snape caught his ear from the doorway.

"Focus, you idiot!" he shouted and threw his old cane to him. It veered through the air in a lovely arc and landed right in his palm. He immediately threw himself out of the way of another cruciatus- noting as he did that Snape took one for his pains as well- and pulled his wand from its resting place.

The power of his old friend immediately centered his magic and he felt that deep, fiery sensation building up in his skin, then diving into the pit of his stomach and coursing up and out, down his arm.

The first killing curse that left his lips brought a howl of rage from Voldemort, who was somewhere behind the mad duelists, watching from the safety of his throne and enchantments, but Lucius found that he simply didn't care anymore. He didn't care that his Dark Lord was pissed off at him, he didn't care that he would likely kill him as soon as he'd killed Bellatrix- because he was most definitely going to kill Bellatrix. And he really, really didn't care just then that his son's baby, the one he was fighting for, had been a half-breed.

Azkaban tends to put some things in perspective that way.

"Avada kedavra!"

Oh, that one may have singed a hair on Alecto Carrow's head.

"No more!" Voldemort proclaimed, hissing his discontent.

But he still didn't care. Closer their dueling circle grew, until their hair flew out from both of their heads with the electricity of it all. Bella's silent attempts at assassination and Lucius' loud, proudly shouted ones.

"Avada kedavra!"

Damn, the bitch just wouldn't fucking die, would she-

"Avada kedavra!"

Hell, that one didn't come from him. Lucius ducked just in time and saw Bellatrix do the same. The shot, from Voldemort himself, took out Dolohov and the scream that erupted from their master's mouth was unearthly and terrible to hear. It shook throughout the entire house and brought several Death Eaters to their knees in fright.

Including Bellatrix, who crouched low, transfixed by the sight of her enraged Dark Lord, the man she'd give anything for- had already given everything for. Her eyes were glued to his face and figure in rapture.

So she never saw it coming.

The curse rang in the silence after Voldemort's expression of displeasure and all eyes were suddenly on him, all breath held to see what the consequence of such an outright betrayal would be.

Lucius knew he had seconds to live, and he turned his head slowly to look at his beloved family.

* * *

Draco looked up from where he knelt by his mother's side, holding her after her own sister had struck her with the cruciatus, in an attempt to distract his father. Bless Snape that it hadn't worked and the bitch was the one lying dead now. His eyes met his father's and he drew the same conclusion the other had.

They were all going to die, very soon.

One second ticked by, and he felt his mother's hand grasp his arm, felt her tug him down to her, put her lips by his ear.

Another second, and he could feel an odd lump pressing into his side where he held her. A lump in his coat pocket.

He lifted his head suddenly and looked across the way to where Snape lay on the carpet of the dining room, caught his eye, and opened his mind to him.

"Do it," the older man mouthed, just as Voldemort lifted his wand again and left his throne to move towards Lucius, who stood proud and unrepentant, but trembling just the same.

Draco reached into his pocket as his mother spoke again, drew his hand from his pocket just as stealthily, and then everything went black.

* * *

Alastor Moody was just laying the first of several traps to catch that lying, yellow-bellied traitor Snape when the Malfoy family appeared in a mass huddle on the front steps of number 12 Grimmauld Place. First mother and son, then father to follow. Startled, Moody immediately hobbled to a window and looked outside. Then he hobbled to the front door and looked out the keyhole.

Then he sent a patronus to Lupin and opened the door.

"Guess you lot'd better come in, then," he muttered.

In they went.

"But you'll submit to a full check by me!" he called after the frightened, but relieved trio. "And don't touch anything! And absolutely no-"

The door closed on the rest of his paranoid commands, and the street outside fell quiet once more.

* * *

In the thick black fog of whatever smoke bomb Draco had used to make their escape, Snape could only feel the wrinkly old hands of Kreacher as he drew Lucius from his grip and whispered to him that the Malfoys would be safe. Then, thank the merciful heavens, the elf disappeared again with another pop and Snape knew that he could rest easy, finally.

Being a double agent was so much harder when one had to worry about other people. Not that he worried about other people, or cared. Because he didn't. Not one little- oh, hell. Who was he kidding. Severus held his aching back and straightened up just as the fog began to receded. With its disappearance the noise level began to recede, too and Severus found he could hear as well as see.

Until Voldemort took one glance about the destroyed room, saw the corpse of Bellatrix Lestrange once again, and there went the relative quiet. His eyes lit on Severus and Snape reacted with appropriate astonishment, dismay, and a general approximation of apoplexy.

"Lucius has dared betray me by killing Bellatrix, my most trusted- don't snivel, you know what her loyalty has meant, Severus. And you. Where were you that they escaped in this manner? Lucius should have paid for this and then-" Voldemort stopped short, as if tempted by an idea. "Then, he would have taken his place as my second, as only one who could defeat Bellatrix would."

"It is my opinion, my lord, that you will never see Lucius Malfoy again."

All trace of a smile disappeared from Voldemort's face and he howled with anger.

"Then he will pay as he would have! First, we will work to perfect our plans to capture Harry Potter. I will not waste my precious time on hunting down Lucius and his family like the dogs they are." He turned about and waved to his gathered company, an evil and pleased expression falling upon his face. "But if you ever see any of them, then you may kill them. And make sure they are dead."

"Do you want us to bring you their beating hearts?" Severus asked, entirely bored with this evening's charade and desperate to go have a good, long soak.

Voldemort faced him once more, steepling his fingers and smiling hideously.

"What a pleasant idea."


	37. Pick Yourself Up

**I do not own any part of the Harry Potter franchise, all rights belong to J.K. Rowling, etc. No profit is made here.**

**AN: I recommend listening to Barcelona's "Get Up" with this chapter.**

* * *

"Where do you think they'll move them to?"

"Well, Dad says if they can stomach house arrest we might just leave them there- that is, if you agree, Harry."

Harry glanced up from his idle thought, gazing out the tower window, and looked at Ron and Ginny's curious faces. Then he glanced across to where Hermione sat by herself, gazing out the window as he'd just been doing.

It was the last days of school and they were gathered in her dorm room. McGonagall had suggested she might like to be around others those last weeks after the battle, but Hermione had merely shook her head and insisted she was fine. Although the tired little smile she wore constantly these days looked far from fine. There was a wall up between her and the outside and Harry thought he might understand it, better than anyone.

It was grief and heartache all at once. It was the struggle to stay sane. It was clinging to one's solitude in a time when everyone wanted to be around you and you just needed space to breathe.

She turned her head slowly and their eyes met. Her smile dropped away and she turned back. Harry shrugged and looked at the others again.

"I don't know. If they want. If it's safe."

"Hermione?" Ginny said, voice tentative. "What do you think?"

Hermione shrugged as well and didn't say anything.

"Hermione, it's been weeks," Ron began slowly, cajoling her and Ginny shot him a look.

"Leave me alone, Ron," Hermione said, startling them all. She turned to look at him. "Can't you just do that much for me, now that it's all over?"

Ron flushed and stared down at the carpet and Hermione spoke again.

"And so what if it's been weeks? You didn't have a little person growing inside of you for months, planning a future with her, planning-" She broke off and stifled a sob, then turned back to the window, silent once more.

"It's not just that, Ron," Ginny said very softly. "He never came back."

"Oh, and I really don't need you talking to your git of a brother about how broken hearted I am, thanks, Ginny," Hermione shot back, glaring at Ginny. But when Ginny lifted her eyes to her friend's face, clearly hurt, Hermione's face crumpled again.

Harry decided to butt in.

"He couldn't come back, Hermione. He and his parents have been stuck at Grimmauld ever since then. You know that. He couldn't risk it."

"I know that!" she exclaimed, beating her fists against her legs. "But that doesn't make it hurt any less, does it?"

And with that she got up and threw herself onto her bed where she could cry into a pillow like a proper teenaged girl. Harry watched her go with alarm, but a second later he stood up, determination on his face, and sat beside her. Ginny followed him a moment after that, and then Ron, and they all put their arms around one another and let one of their best friends cry for a good long while, while she lay protected in the comfort of their arms. And for the first time in weeks, Hermione felt like she might just make it through this mess.

Maybe it was hearing the gentle sounds of their own tears mingling with hers, maybe it was the knowledge that even if they didn't always say the right thing, they truly did mean well.

But mostly it was having them there at all and seeing, after the fog she'd been living in, that despite whatever secrets had been kept and whatever dangers they'd shared, that they weren't going to leave her alone. That she didn't have to be alone.

As she drew strength from them, she wondered if she really missed Draco at all, or if it had all been a dream.

And then she thought that maybe it was better if she pretended it had been a dream, and cried a little harder. In response, the trio of arms about her tightened their embrace and her three comforters shut their eyes tight and wished desperately to go back and right every mistake committed in the last year, and more than Hermione's heart broke anew.

* * *

Draco looked between his parents and then over at Lupin.

"You understand what I'm saying, then? You believe me?"

Lupin gave him a wry look. "I am human, you know. I do understand the English language."

"Remus," Tonks said quietly and Narcissa shot her a grateful look. It wasn't really acknowledged, but Tonks did clear her throat.

Forgiveness would come easy from some, not so easy from others. Narcissa half wanted to take her niece- the niece she'd never truly known- and shake her, scream at her that she'd just watched her own sister die, had wanted her to die, and yet still the precious Order stood in judgment on her family…Lucius reached behind their son to brush his fingers along her arm and she glanced over at him. Calm down, accept it, his eyes told her. Think of where we might be now.

And that much was true.

Remus went on.

"Right. So, I can accept that Severus has been a double agent for Albus this entire time. It certainly clears up several questions. We'll have to wait for contact from him to-"

"Look, I didn't have to tell you about this at all, but I figured you already knew part of it from Potter, so. And I'd rather have it all out there before…anything else happens. You have to trust Professor Snape."

"I'll deliver your report to the rest of the Order-"

"We'll deliver it," Tonks corrected him and he shifted uncomfortably and nodded.

"Sorry. Yes, we will. But that's all we can do. We can't guarantee that they'll believe you. Anyway, look, there's still the question of what we're going to do with you."

"Have you found a place?" Lucius asked stiffly and Narcissa took the opportunity to grab his hand and hold it.

"Harry is willing to let you all stay here, if you wish. But we're still looking for other spots, to be honest. You may be here another month or two as we search, though."

"Actually," Tonks broke in, "I talked to Mum about it, and she and Dad are willing to- to take you in," she finished. She was flushed and beside her, Remus gave a start and stared at her, but Tonks refused to look at him and stared at Narcissa and Lucius in turn.

"You never said-"

"Tch," she hissed at him and he sat back, surprised. "Well?" she asked the trio. "What do you think? It doesn't have to be permanent. In fact, you'll likely have to be moved several times in the coming months. But for now, it would get you out of here. And honestly, Mum rather…_wants_ to catch up with you," she said, addressing Narcissa. "She'd like a bit of her own family, I think."

Narcissa's eyes filled with tears and she covered her mouth, then stood and rushed from the room. Tonks rose as well to go after her and Remus put a hand on her arm. She glared down at him and he lifted his hand away immediately and Tonks went after her estranged aunt.

"What's up with you two?" Draco asked and Lucius smacked the back of his head.

"Pardon my boy's manners. Now, what do we need to do?"

"Well-"

"Can I see Hermione?" Draco asked abruptly, unable to help himself. Remus leveled a look at him that, had he not just endured what he had for the last year, would have had him shrinking away and hanging his head in shame. Instead, Draco met his gaze inch for inch.

"Draco, I'm afraid that's just not possible right now. We might be able to…schedule a meeting. If you wish to write her, we can certainly pass correspondence along."

"She's the mother of my son's child and that's the best you can promise?"

Remus paled and now he was the one looking ashamed. Still, he didn't budge.

"I know that many tragic things happened, weeks ago. I know you need closure, and to grieve with those who will understand your feelings best. But we are at the precipice of war, about to topple the scales into a full and desperate battle for our lives, every day that we take breath. If circumstances were different, you would not be in hiding. Hermione would not be preparing…whatever it is those three have up their sleeves. If circumstances allowed, I would never dream of standing in your way on this, Draco. But right now, what is safest for you, and her, and will soon be for all of us, is to hold our ground." He looked at Draco, face serious, eyes glinting in the lamplight. "Now, do you understand me?"

Draco grit his teeth and blinked away the tears that filled his eyes, unwanted. Always unwanted, when he didn't have Hermione to bury his face against, to hide his emotion from the rest of the world. To help him feel at peace for a few precious seconds.

"I understand," he whispered and felt his father place a hand on his shoulder. He swallowed hard and blinked several times, then dared rub a hand under his nose. "Would you…would you mind if I wrote a letter right now? To take to her?"

Remus nodded and gave him a small smile. "I'll wait."

Draco delivered a soft "thank you" and then stood and left. Lucius watched him go and felt an ache in his chest for his boy. What had he done to his family, by making the choices he had? And how could he ever begin to make it up to them all? He turned a weary smile upon Lupin and the other man met his gaze with equanimity.

"Tell me," began Lucius, "do you think we'll live through the end of the war?"

But Remus Lupin, fighting for his own survival, didn't really have an answer. He honestly expected not, but he suspected Lucius Malfoy already thought as much, himself.

* * *

After Dumbledore's funeral, Harry climbed to the Astrology tower. He had some idea of saying a proper goodbye there, where it had happened. Or maybe it was just morbid obsession on his part, running the memory over and over in his mind, telling himself there must have been something he could've done. Replaying different scenarios, where Dumbledore cast wandless magic at the last minute, protecting himself, or Harry was able to break the bind and intercept the spell.

He wouldn't mind taking out Snape, either.

"Harry, you know he and Dumbledore had arranged the entire thing," Hermione said softly from one side of him. She came up and leaned on the rail with him. He raised a brow and gazed out over the grounds.

"Sorry, didn't realize I said that out loud."

"Talking to yourself is one of your more endearing habits," Ginny teased from behind him, and wrapped her arms about his waist.

"But back to the point-"

"I know," Harry said softly. "But it doesn't change anything. He still did it. How could he do it?"

"We'll probably never know how complicated their relationship was," Hermione responded.

"Yeah, you'd have to ask Snape that, and he's never going to tell you," Ron added, coming up on the other side of Harry.

"Thanks, Ron," Hermione said, rolling her eyes and he made a face at her. She smiled in return and Ron grinned.

A comfortable silence fell for a few minutes and Harry reveled in it as long as he could. Then he gave a sigh and looked to his friends.

"Listen, this next year…I'm not coming back."

Hermione and Ron exchanged looks, while Ginny tightened her grip and buried her face against his shoulder.

"We thought you would say that," Ron offered and Hermione took a deep breath. She bumped shoulders with Harry.

"We're coming with you."

"Coming with- but I don't even know where I'm going! I don't know what I'll be doing, apart from fighting, and trying to figure out how-"

"To kill You-Know-Who, yeah, we know, mate," Ron finished for him.

"You can't come with me. It's too dangerous. Especially you, Ginny," he added over his shoulder. She nodded sadly, gave his middle another squeeze.

"I know. I know I have to stay. Let's not talk about it anymore."

"No, not until these two-"

"Harry," Hermione said gently, "we're coming with you. We've known, for a long time, that you'll need help, with whatever it is you end up doing. And we agreed to help you, no matter what."

Harry turned to her.

"But, Hermione…after all you went through this year. After everything, you need to just-"

"Don't tell me what I need," she responded firmly. "This is what I need. To be with you, and Ron, and to help you. It's what I want. Besides, it's hardly likely I'll be able to return to Hogwarts this coming year, as a muggle born, is it?"

"Nothing's happened yet," Harry went on, wheedling now.

"But it will," Ron said, and his voice matched the dark expression on his face. "With him gone? It will. Dad's already had trouble at the ministry, not just with the reports coming in, and we're purebloods."

"This is war," Hermione said softly. "And what happened weeks ago is just the beginning." She stared Harry down, and her ability to face these things with courage despite her recent struggles and loss swayed him as much as her words did.

"We are your friends, Harry, and our place now is at your side. Dumbledore knew that," she went on, thinking of last Fall, and Snape's mysterious question of the Headmaster. Of how all that subterfuge had been done to protect her, because in the end, Harry Potter would need Hermione Granger with him. How Draco's sacrifice had been for Harry as much as for her. His entire family's sacrifice, in fact.

His letter to her burned where she'd folded it and tucked it into her shirt, nestled against her skin, close to her heart.

Harry's green eyes took in her determination, her bearing, and then swept across to Ron, who looked, despite the defeat in his eyes these last weeks, like a proud warrior. He felt Ginny's weight against his back and then gazed out across the grounds once more, to where Dumbledore's tomb gleamed in the afternoon sunlight.

So, it was time to trust him entirely one last time.

He took a deep breath and nodded.

"Alright."

* * *

_Dear Hermione,_

_I don't know where you'll be when you get this. I can't tell you where I'll be. I couldn't even if I wanted to. But you probably know that already, or guessed as much. I bet it doesn't help any. It doesn't help me any. I want to be near you, more than anything. I know we're stupid teenagers who don't know anything, really, or who have had to grow up before our time, or something equally dumb and cliché. But I want to be near you._

_This is all of me that I can send. I wish it were more. But it's just words, and those won't do either of us any good, will they? I hope you aren't hurting too much. I hope the pain finally went away. You'll be glad to know- you already do, but let me tell you anyway- that she's dead. Father killed her. I wish it had been me. It would have, if Father hadn't come in. But then, I'd be dead and you wouldn't have this letter. So maybe it's for the best._

_Mother is more ok with that than when she heard about you, I think. She was really torn up over it. None of them know. I guess we're all keeping the vow, then. It just seems easier, after everything else that's happened. It is easier, in a way, because I really do feel that she was mine, even if you can never be mine again._

_Hermione Granger, I never thought I would say this- write it- but I love you. Not because of what we went through, pretending, and then that lovely holiday and everything. But because you are you- brave and smart and funny and you love books and sitting by fires and you cared for me, despite everything I'd ever done, and went on to do._

_Remember that I love you. It's a gift you gave me. So, thank you. And I'm sorry I promised to come back that night when I knew I probably wouldn't. But I honestly thought I would be dead by now, so please don't hate me too much for it. I will see you again, after all this is over. I don't know what we'll think of one another by then, but I'll see you, just the same._

_Give them hell, Granger._

_Draco Malfoy_


	38. Dust Yourself Off

**Don't own Harry Potter or make any money off this fic. All rights belong to J.K. and her publishers/franchisers. (Is that even a word?)**

**AN: There's this one and then the epilogue. Enjoy. It's been a pleasure, y'all. **

* * *

Over the next year, Draco's letter to Hermione became increasingly illegible, as it carried more than a few sweat and tear stains, was torn and patched back together, tattered along the edges, and occasionally soaked in blood. But Hermione didn't care. She kept it by her heart, always, and its words- now memorized- gave her the strength she needed to make it through that year. To not count all the hardships she faced, and to stand proudly by Harry's side, while Ron stood loyally with her.

He never abandoned them, even after Hermione made it clear that she would never care for him the same way again, and that the last year had changed everything. Even though his eyes told her she deserved more than a measly letter. Still, she didn't care.

Hermione only ever got the one, because not long after that Harry made his crash landing at the Tonks home and the Malfoys had to be moved again. Of course, his run in with Voldemort that night also set the Dark Lord off on his quest to possess the Elder Wand, and it didn't take Harry long, with Hermione and Ron's help, to realize that Draco was the actual master of the wand.

Which in turn meant that Draco's being utterly off the grid was even more imperative, although Voldemort didn't exactly jump to the same conclusion.

Fortunately, one good thing came from the trio's capture, seclusion, and then escape from Malfoy Manor: Harry ended up snatching Draco's abandoned wand, making himself the master of the wand. It took him a bit longer to realize it, however, as he'd taken the wand off a now dead Macnair.

When Voldemort decided to kill him just hours before the Battle of Hogwarts began, Snape had to restrain his glee while pointing out there was no way he could be the wand's master, and thus his death would be pointless.

Which of course meant that when Voldemort needed someone to make sure that Potter was dead, Severus was alive and on hand to readily lie to his face…which meant that Harry was able to sneak back into the castle and kill the bastard in a final, strangely anticlimactic duel.

The remaining Death Eaters were, on the whole, easier to beat than anyone expected, but then again, the Order had Narcissa and Lucius Malfoy in their ranks: two adults who had no compunctions against fighting fire with fire. And of course, the Death Eaters' best duelist was already dead, so there was that.

And there was Draco, too. He helped a bit.

He was just kneeling in the Great Hall, checking the binds of a fellow Slytherin who hadn't made the right choices, when Hermione spotted his blonde head, hair sticking to his brow with the sweat from battle.

She stumbled, one hand clutched over her heart, crumpling the letter beneath her jumper, wanting to run to him, to call his name, to do anything but just stand there like an idiot…and yet she couldn't move. Ron saw her distress and walked up beside her.

"Well?" he asked gruffly. "What are you waiting for?"

She shook her head slightly and turned towards the sound of his voice, but couldn't tear her eyes from Draco.

"How…how is Fred?" she asked breathlessly. Ron raised a brow.

"Alive. Making jokes about the matching holes in their heads. Mum is ready to kill him herself. George too, I think," he added thoughtfully, then looked across to Draco again. He leaned towards Hermione.

"Go on, then," he whispered.

Again, Hermione shook her head.

"Why not?"

"I don't…" I don't know why I'm even talking about this with you right now, here, for god's sake, she wanted to say, but didn't. "I don't even know how he feels about me now. I don't know how I feel."

"The way you've cried over that letter every night for the last year I'd say you bloody well know how you feel. Blimey, Hermione. Just get over there, will you? I already feel like enough of a jerk, standing here sticking up for my own bloody rival."

Hermione turned her face to his finally and her eyes were bright with tears. Impulsively she threw her arms about his neck and hugged him tightly. Ron held her back as closely and buried his face in her neck.

"But just so you know…if he doesn't want you, he's an idiot. And I'll be here as long as you want me to."

Hermione finally pulled away and he let her go, a wry smile on his face.

"I already told you not to wait for me," she murmured softly.

"It's the least I can do," he said. "To make up for-"

"You stood by us all year. Even when it hurt," she replied. "You were there when he wasn't. You did your job."

"He couldn't be there," Ron pointed out, wondering why in hell he was still sticking up for Draco. He shook his head. "But I reckon I'll wait until he puts a ring on your finger," he said stoutly. "And that's that. Now _go_ _on_, will you?"

Hermione bit her lip and glanced from Ron to Draco and back again. Then she reached up, kissed his cheek, and started away.

* * *

Ginny watched all this from a distance, and felt Harry beside her, putting an arm about her shoulders.

"So they're really over," he murmured and Ginny looked up at him.

"They never really started," she said and Harry sighed.

"But they could've. This last year…Ron was brilliant," he said softly. "He did everything right with her, this time around."

"And she needed that, and he's not a complete ape," Ginny said. "She lost everything last June and she buried it all away as best she could to be with you two. And Ron knew that."

Though why he knew that and why he was so close to the issue were things she couldn't tell Harry. Not that he hadn't guessed at some of it, in his heart of hearts. But he let the sleeping dog lie, because he realized it was what was best. Still, he ached a bit for what might have been, once upon a time.

And then they saw Draco standing and turning from his task and seeing Hermione, and the world stopped spinning for one second as they held their breath.

* * *

"Granger," Draco said, voice barely above a whisper in the crowded, noisy hall.

"Draco," she replied, and he swallowed hard. Her shoulders were back, her head held high. He wondered if she knew she was crying.

"Did you give them hell?" he asked, at a loss for words.

But it was apparently the right thing to say, because a second later she'd closed the space between them and had thrown her arms around him and was holding him tight, so tight. He barely had a chance to embrace her in return, though, before she'd pulled away and punched him solidly in the arm.

He was just glad it wasn't his face this time.

"I deserve that," he said and she shook her head, still crying, but just as joyfully unaware of it.

"You don't," she replied. "But I don't know if you'd rather I kissed you or not. And I really had to do something because I really, really wish I hated you, or didn't care at all about you, because then this last year wouldn't have been so _hard_-"

He shut her up with his mouth on hers and she folded her arms around him again, nestling herself into his return embrace this time.

When he pulled away, her face was glowing slightly and she'd stopped crying. He informed her of both facts and she blushed.

"I missed you," he said simply.

"Draco-"

"I'm sorry I didn't write more."

"Dra-"

"Would it shock you at all to know that my feelings haven't changed?"

"D-"

"I'm trying to tell you I still love you, Hermione Granger, so would you just shut up and listen to me for once? I had to deal with your know-it-all, bossy boots, non-stop chatter all last year, and then this year, when you weren't even around, when I hadn't seen you for months, you were still there, in my head, constantly. Telling me what I ought to be doing, or what I'd just done wrong, and about the most mundane, stupid, boring things, too, like the laundry, or the cooking, even bloody cleaning my room when I- do you know I didn't even have a room sometimes this last year? The entire last month we were in a bleeding treehouse, can you imagine, in some muggle's back yard. And still, you were in my head and you wouldn't just leave me in peace, for one lousy second, and I loved every snarky, bloody minute of it."

Hermione gaped at him and he smirked.

"That's better. Now, what was it you were going to say, Granger?"

She screwed up her mouth.

"You're a prat," she told him and he laughed.

"I know that," he said. "Anything else?"

"Ron said he'd have me back if you didn't want me," she replied, a sly smile on her face.

"He's probably better for you," Draco informed her and she rolled her eyes.

"Maybe."

"But I'd kill him as soon as you went back to him, so for his sake I think you'd better choose me."

"And what gives you the right?" she asked, enjoying their sparring after an entire year of silence and separation and finding little joy in the world around her.

"The fact that you're still wearing that tacky ring I gave you is a good sign, I'd say."

She frowned. "It's not tacky and I happen to love this ring and I heard that you spent quite a bit of money on it."

"And who told you that?" he asked, mimicking her frown. She fought to keep the grin off her face.

"Your mum."

"My-"

"You may not have been able to write, but your mum did."

His jaw dropped. "So you- this entire last year-"

"That's right. She's got lovely penmanship, by the way, and she had even lovelier things to say." She went on. "But I don't care what anyone else thinks, or says, or how psychologically scarred I supposedly am, or how mentally unstable all this makes either of us. When we're old enough, none of it will matter anyway. So, barring natural disaster, I'd say we've weathered all there is and I think we can stand a bit more."

"I suppose so," Draco agreed, slightly dazed.

"Then that's settled," Hermione said.

"Wait, what?"

"We still want to be together."

"I love you," he said fiercely and she laughed, and it was the most glorious thing he'd heard in months.

"I'm not sure if we love each other or not," she admitted. "Or if we've just come down to one another because we're all we have after everything else. But I think it'll do for now."

"I think you've gotten rather mercenary," Draco informed her seriously and she laughed again.

"Maybe. But I am going to marry into a family of Slytherins. I think it's rather necessary, don't you?"

Then she turned from him and, taking his hand, started to drag him over to where a celebration of sorts was starting to take place. Draco went after her, eyes wide and heart pounding like nothing else.

"Marry?"

Hermione turned her head, eyes shining, face free from fear and anxiety for the first time in months.

"Marry!" she shouted back to him and in the next minute, his excitement overtook his disbelief and he felt something akin to awe bubbling within him.

Above the din of the Great Hall, his laughter mingled with hers, and its infectious spirit joined everyone gathered in an expression of shared joy and relief so long in coming that it was nearly painful to feel.

The war was finally, truly over.


	39. And Walk Away, Free At Last

**Still don't own HP or make money off this crap. Boo-hoo. All rights to J.K., etc and so forth.**

**AN: Well, this is it. Can't believe it's been two long, crazy years since I started this puppy. Well, nearly two years. Thank you for seeing me through- I put my heart into all I write and I'm so glad so many of you appreciate it. Cheers and many blessings. **

**Ok, enough with the sap. *sniffles* Let's get on with it!**

* * *

**_Ten Years Later..._**

* * *

"Harry, did you pick up the cider?" Ginny called from the kitchen.

From his armchair, his two boys settled firmly in his lap, he called back, "It's in the icebox, love!"

There was some muttering from the direction of the kitchen and then a series of opening and closing doors, followed by a swear or two. Harry rolled his eyes and started to displace the two tots from his lap.

"Need some help?" he called and Ginny swore again.

"It's fine!" she yelled back, and if her tone was a bit sharper than usual, Hermione didn't blame her. She was nearly nine months pregnant, after all.

The front door opened and then closed with a bang and Draco walked into the parlor.

"Sorry about that," he murmured, then bent to kiss Hermione. He waved to Harry and started to settle in on the sofa beside his wife when another clunk came from the direction of the kitchen. He glanced towards the hall.

"I'll go check on her, shall I?" he said, raising his brows and smirking at the others. Harry tried not to laugh.

"Thanks, mate," he said and then Draco was gone. There was a shriek of glee as Draco reached the kitchen.

"Daddy!" Rose yelled and they heard Ginny greet him as well. The little boy on Hermione's lap was aroused from his nap by his sister's screech and began to squirm.

"No, Scorpius," Hermione chastised. "You know the rule you broke earlier."

"But I didn't eat the cookies!"

"You did and you'll spoil your dinner with sweets if I let you back in that kitchen. Now sit still."

Harry grinned that time.

"Lucky we don't have that problem. James here steals broccoli. And Al spills the pumpkin juice every other week trying to pour himself a glass."

"Oh, like they haven't caused other trouble," Hermione said, making a face at him. "I am over here nearly every day, or Ginny's at our house. You can't pretend they're perfect angels."

Harry looked down at his snoozing boys with a fond smile. "But they are angels, aren't they?"

A tiny ache settled in Hermione's breast, as it did from time to time and she couldn't help agreeing.

"Yes," she said softly. "They are. I wouldn't give it up for anything."

Harry eyed her, knowing full well where her mind had wandered to, and was about to say something, change the subject for her sake, when they heard a heavy tread on the stairs and the voices on Ron and Remus reached their ears.

"Yes, but you see what I mean, now, about the structural integrity of the-"

"Oy, Ron!" Harry called. "Hermione and Draco are here!"

"Hermione!" Ron said happily as he and Remus rounded the corner into the living room. He immediately walked over to her and gave her a kiss on the cheek, then ruffled Scorpius' hair. Remus gave a quiet greeting and sat next to Harry.

"And how's my boy?" Ron said.

Scorpius crossed his arms.

"Ah, what's he done this time?" Ron asked, holding out his hands and delightfully accepting the wriggling, frowning tot.

"Cookies again," Harry mock whispered and Ron nodded knowingly.

"Well, that's expected. They're just what a boy needs if he wants to grow into a big, strong Gryffindor."

Hermione gave an affectionate, but exasperated sigh. "Ron, will you-"

"I'd prefer that, myself, actually," Draco cut in, poking his head in the door. He smiled at the others. "Dinner will be ready in twenty minutes."

A little girl dressed in a frilly frock that already hosted grass and dirt stains clung to his leg. Her hair was desperately curly and bright red.

Remus, having been away from the group for the last few years in an experimental program to cure Lycanthropy, gave a small start at the sight of her and Hermione flushed. Draco laughed.

"I know, right? Wonder who my wife's been sleeping with?"

"Draco!" Hermione said, aghast, but a mysterious quirk had taken up residence at the corner of her mouth as they both remembered the secrets of the past. The occasional teasing didn't even bother Ron anymore, thankfully, and he'd joined his friends in keeping the past where it was.

Hermione turned to Remus. "Turns out his great-great-grandmother had red hair."

"Go figure," Draco shrugged, then reached down and swung his precious daughter into his arms. She squirmed and pointed at her twin brother, whose hair was mercifully brown, like his mother's, but swept back from his forehead exactly as his father's once had. He had the grey eyes they'd once seen in another vision of a child, too.

"Oh, you want your brother? Well, go on then." He set her down and she ran over to the sofa, crawling in between Hermione and Ron and hugging her mother's waist. Draco smiled again and turned away.

"Dinner in fifteen, now," he said, waggling his fingers at them all. Tonks swept past him as he waltzed back across the hall to the kitchen and came in to stand next to Remus.

"Where's Teddy?" he asked, looking up at her. She and their son had moved with him to the Netherlands, to be close to him during the testing. It had been a long three years, but it had been worth it. His curse didn't cause him pain anymore.

"In the garden with his grandparents."

"And great aunt and uncle," Hermione added.

"So that's where Lucius got off to. I had a question for him," Remus said and Tonks sighed and gestured to the door.

"Then go ask it!"

"I think I will. Thanks, Dora," he murmured, standing and kissing his wife's cheek. Tonks flushed prettily and stole his seat just as the front door opened again.

"Merry Christmas!" came the boisterous greeting as the rest of the Weasley clan spilled into number 12 Grimmauld Place. They peeled off into various spots: the garden, enchanted to keep visitors warm despite the snow, and the kitchen and living room seemed to be the most popular, though heaven only knew where all the children scattered to.

The parlor was soon crowded and the smell of spices and a crackling fire filled the town house.

"I'm always amazed at the job you did redecorating, every time I come here," Arthur began, and Ron turned to his father, eager to discuss the architecture. He was in the process of building his own house, and the subject fascinated him.

"And when is Astoria getting here?" George asked, plopping himself on the floor and letting the children crawl all over him.

"You mean Astoria, the girl Ron finally asked to marry him?" Harry added.

Ron turned bright pink.

"Come on, mate, that was supposed to be-"

"As if I didn't know already, Ron. Now stop playing with the babies and give me one. Go help your sister," Molly ordered, shooing him off the sofa as she made her appearance. A pleased smile hovered at her lips, though.

"I have to say, Hermione, that was the best idea you ever had," she whispered conspiratorially and Hermione grinned.

"It was Draco's idea to set them up," she replied and Molly chortled as Scorpius tugged on her necklace.

"Who's my special little boy?" she cooed. Molly had taken a special interest in the twins, as had most of the people who knew the official version of Draco and Hermione's sixth year. "Who is?" she went on, tickling him delightedly. "You, you precious boy!"

Hermione managed not to cringe and turned to Tonks, who brought up Astoria again.

"She's coming with my parents," Hermione explained. "Dad had to work an extended shift today and since she knows the way here already-"

"That's right, she's taken up dentistry, hasn't she?"

"She's just interning with them," Hermione corrected. "She thinks it will help her with magical dentistry."

"Fascinating!" Arthur responded, clapping his hands. "Just brilliant!"

"Though how she manages all those hours standing in her condition," Molly said, shaking her head ominously.

"She's just pregnant, not carrying the plague," Hermione pointed out and heard something suspiciously like a giggle come from both Harry and George.

"Have they decided on a name?" Tonks asked and Molly looked up and smiled beatifically.

"Hugo," she said proudly.

The doorbell rang and Fred passed by the parlor with a passle of kids, and a few errant wives who were trying to collect said kids, at his heels.

"I've got it!" he called and they heard the door opening.

"Snivellus!" he shouted joyfully and they heard the distinct grumble of their favorite former Potions Master, now head of the Lycanthropy Research Association. "And you've brought the ever lovely Minerva and- why it's Neville, my man!"

The Hogwarts contingent spilled into the increasingly crowded home and warmed the air further as more hugs and greetings were exchanged. Snape shooed George to make room on the floor and immediately had children crawling on him, as well.

Molly's jaw dropped and in an effort to maintain her manners, she turned away. Fred was about to close the door when the final group arrived.

"Ah, Astoria, my sweet, soon to be sister-in-law! And Mr. and Mrs. Granger, welcome, welcome. Everyone is just getting reacquainted, right this way-"

He ushered them into the parlor, where they stood in the doorway and surveyed the mass of people there as even more moved about them, into the kitchen, out of the dining room, up and down the stairs. Mr. and Mrs. Granger met their daughter's eyes from across the crowded room, saw her children near her and the happiness in her eyes, and knew that everything had turned out as it ought.

From behind them, Draco tapped them on their shoulders and gave them each a great hug.

"Good to see you both," he murmured and they eagerly returned his embrace.

"Now," he called over the growing din, "time to eat, _then _presents. Then carols? Did I get that right?"

There was a stampede as the children, then the adults all exited past him for the dining room that had been enchanted just so it would fit such a huge crowd, and he made his way into the now breathable space to Hermione's side. Scorpius had left in Molly's arms and there was just little Rose, settled on her mother's hip, snoozing away because she was so tired from all the excitement. Draco leaned in and kissed Hermione again, more slowly, then pulled away and slid an arm about her shoulders.

"Alright, love?" he asked softly and she smiled up at him.

"How can I not be, with angels like these?"

He smoothed a curl from his daughter's forehead and smiled down at her before agreeing with his wife.

Only happiness remained when they had angels in their lives, both on earth and in heaven, softening the hard blows they'd taken so many years ago with every day that they remembered the love they shared.

Draco watched Hermione walk on into the brightly lit dining room and then reached back to dim the lights in the living room. He stopped short, transfixed by the sight of the tree. It was still such a beautiful sight to him, a tree hung with candles and tinsel, cranberries and popcorn, and it represented all the good moments of his life. They'd been having these shared Christmases for years now, and it brought new joy to him, every time. A glint hanging from one of the lower branches caught his eye and he walked over, curious, the sounds from the gathering strangely dim to his ears.

There on a branch hung the small pair of baby booties he'd bought Hermione all that time ago. He felt a sudden grip upon his heart and put his hand to his chest, as if he could stave off the emotion that flooded him. There was a second glint and he looked more closely.

On the branch beside it hung the second, small ornament he'd purchased, but never shown her. He'd bought in a fit of idealism, that holiday so long ago. A fit of hope. In fact, he'd thought it had been lost when the Manor had been nearly destroyed. It was simple and rustic and read, "Our First Christmas," and there in the hole where a picture went was a photo of their smallest, lost angel, wrapped in pink and looking like she was merely sleeping.

"How…" he murmured and felt someone kneel beside him.

Hermione put a hand on his shoulder.

"Your mother went back a few months ago and sifted through what was left. I didn't tell you she'd found them. I wanted it to be a surprise."

Draco choked back tears. They hadn't talked about her in years, first on purpose, because it was too painful, and then they hadn't needed to, because they'd learned to live again. But now…

"I never told you," he whispered. "I saw her. That night, that awful night, I-"

"I saw her too," Hermione said. "And I still do, everyday."

"Hermione-"

"Hush," she said, and kissed him softly, trying to tell him with that kiss how much he meant to her still, after all this time. How she wouldn't trade her life with him in it for anything, and how she knew that somewhere, somehow, little Olivia was exactly where she should be, too.

"Merry Christmas, Draco," she said as she drew back.

"I love you," he told her earnestly. She smiled and stood up, pulling him with her.

"And I love you. Come in to dinner, darling."

He rubbed his thumb along that first ring he'd given her, that she still wore every day, faithfully.

"Ok," he said, and kissed her forehead. "Merry Christmas."

Then he wrapped an arm around her shoulders while she wrapped one about his waist, and they joined the others together, memories, angels and all.

* * *

_Love does not consist in gazing at each other, but in looking outward together in the same direction._

_Antoine de Saint-Exupery_


End file.
